The recurrent laryngeal nerve
You sleek, fit, timorous, towering beast,
Enormous swan, or mis-shaped horse,
I saw your stately, tall progress
And thought, a triffid, or Queen Bess.
Puzzled, or puzzling, as you munch
You seem absorbed, not on your lunch
But on some hint, some alien hunch
That your slim brain-power cannot crunch.
Up and down your splendid curve
The long recurrent laryngeal nerve
Winds its route the long way round,
And, tells, perhaps, of your reserve:
Slow to speak, long to think,
Fragile as you bow and drink,
Ungainly stooped upon the brink
Of flickering thoughts you cannot link.
Your family heirloom weaves its way,
The tale of making-do at play:
Jaipur to Agra by Mumbai?
No shame at all! Your pride and joy
To be a fellow-falterer,
Holder-back and halterer,
Trier-out and stutterer,
Letter-out and alterer.
If someone said, "let's make a snip,
Re-route that branch-line, make it quick,"
I'm not sure that I'd vote for it.
At least, I'd first stand back and look;
Look, and watch, still and long.
My thoughts would take an arctic turn
And hear the humpback whales' song
And run the race of marathon
And pause to stop and stay, and weep
At trees floating in the creek,
And factory fires and mission-creep,
And oil welling in the deep.
Copyright Credit: Andrew Steane, "The recurrent laryngeal nerve", unpublished.
Copyright © 2021