Minutia Iota


Was the year 60,

or 61?

As best I remember

it wasn’t much fun.


Well maybe,

for someone,

it was for a while.

The prettiest girl

wore the prettiest smile.


Hawkins, a madman,

knew everything;

but, why put a sad man

in charge of children?


Minutia iota,

be-stilled, but still fled,

except for the sputniks,

which flew overhead.


Lambrettas and Cushmans,

and Spudnuts instead,

we drove upon snow

to go and be fed.


JFK pleading

that we should be leading

the race into space

and be healthy, ahead.


All the while football

and baseball were kings

in Four Corners country

where coal and oil reigns.


And Hawkins’ poor lizard!

The lizard was dead.

A Mantis there with him

had eaten his head.


And all throughout Fall,

into Winter, out Spring,

I don’t recall all,

but of just a few things:


minutia iota

slowing slipping,

about which

a whole world

and a history hangs.






©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn

8 August 2013


Poem’s Score: 1.5


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