& when they were cut out, they both strode on to the roof, & stood, & looked
at the havoc they’d caused. One twin turned to the other & said, My, we’re
great, we’ve caused all this, we’ve broken the flood barrier.

—The Story Of Two Twins, …And The Native Hipsters

In January 2001, the Htoo twins turned themselves in to Thai border guards,
admitted they had no magical powers, and asked for their mommy.

—Wonder Twins, Sarah Vowell

& ever ampersanded, Venn‐diagramed, not
doubles, but halves. & super‐

abundance of force inevitably produces its own
opposite. & it is equivalent

to the principle of equilibrium
in the natural world, in that any

extreme is opposed by the system
in order to restore

balance. Literally, running
counter to. & it was not

morning, it was not
calm. & if fragile, then

seethingly so, & the trope
of the two is chaos, & we fall

in, hold fast. If we relax for a second
we’d never find our way

back, we’d go to pieces & the pieces
would be blown away, the tiny

terrorists would win. & that their greatest
distinction might have simply been

their own circumstance & yet, bloody
overkill, the we is simultaneously

singular & plural, & implies a degree
of regality. & if reflection then

reactive, Boolean operators & somewhat
Martian XOR, & this cusp

of twinly dread, too many, too
fast, too much

like reading the sun without proper
protective eye wear & translation

texts on idiosyncratic
dualism. & do you

don’t, & besides, I can’t even hear
you right now (most

often, idioglossia refers to the private
speech of young children, especially

twins, the latter which is known as crypto‐
phasia). & lies

which, for sheer strangeness
are often better

than this or any other, & no, I never
put technology in my

mouth, not ever, written in perfect iambs &
in perfect imprints of eachother’s teeth

in their flesh, & lingual vs. glottal stops, &
stray cats & carpenter

bees. & how they open
our wounds & fill them with lead, giddy

oblivious. & how they are osmosis,
undiluted, & shared permeable

membrane, inherently intertwined, & we
are external, ever, & learn to exist

in a lesser degree. As much of a we
as we can or care to be, nothing

dissolved about it, we look better
on the ground— they look better

in trees, sleeping hollow
versus riotous circus.

____
Jenn McCreary is the author of :ab ovo:, published by Dusie Press in the spring of 2009. She is also the author of two chapbooks: errata stigmata (Potes & Poets Press), & four o’clock pocket chiming (Beautiful Swimmer Press); the e-chapbook :Maps & Legends: (Scantily Clad Press) & a doctrine of signatures (Singing Horse Press).

Her poetry has been published in magazines including Combo, Lungfull!, Tool: A Magazine, POM2, So To Speak, Sous Rature, Tangent, & How2. She lives in Philadelphia where she co-edits ixnay press with Chris McCreary, works for the Mural Arts Program, wrangles twins, & charms snakes.