The Beast With Two Backs

In the beginning, we had four legs,

four arms, four eyes, two hearts, two heads.

We men were children of the Sun.

We’d fight and shout and hunt and run.

You women were children of the Earth,

baking bread and giving birth,

presumably.

On Mount Olympus, Zeus got jealous

and some might argue over-zealous

for over time he had grown sour

contemplating human power.

Would we, could we fight the Gods?

Zeus didn’t much like the odds,

presumably

because he called, “Fee fi fo fum!

Ready or not, dudes, here I come!”

and before we had the chance to laugh,

he split all humans neatly in half!

Now we’re half as big, with half the strength

and roughly half the width and length,

presumably.

So now we all feel incomplete

with just one heart, two hands, two feet,

and spend our lives scouring the Earth

for our long-lost other half

and though our partners may be great

they’re not our actual soulmate,

presumably.

In fact, we could change our partner nightly

and it would still be statistically unlikely

that we’d locate our special friend

so we all settle in the end

for whoever’s lips we’re kissing

but we all sense there’s something missing,

presumably?

I was content to settle too

until, sweet lady, I found you;

my mirrored self, the rest of me,

the whole root system of my tree,

the ghostly double of my soul.

Come lie with me and we’ll feel whole!

Presumably.