Soul and satisfaction

Soul and satisfaction
By Paul Turner

Through the years the chasm,
Its walls slick and retracting,
Half of my origins were unknown, yet assumed real

In not so private moments
My soul, tissues stretched and stapled back,
Gibbered at this meandering world

Newspaper advertisements
Genealogical gambits
Ancient cave-dwelling ancestors and am roiling again

No thread confirmed: who’s who at any slippery moment
Nothing budging for thirty-four years
And then into the echoless void, detection

And sweet verification,
And our phone call, the long ride north and west
And then, the living, alive you!