Mary E. Adair
In the niche of my mind
An embryo of memory I find,
Indigenous to my high school days,
Where it did hibernate in the maze
Of the brain of this said omnivore
A story I've not told before.
A prof we all considered a rogue
Who went for the jugular of one in a fog,
Assigned the class a list of terms
We should have buried in the nearest berms.
With amoeboid, and kinesthetic
Neither word sympathetic,
On to dehiscent and sessile
Surely not heard in awhile;
And the mimicry abounded as each alone
Tried to memorize and spell pheromone.
Vestigials of graft appeared in our midst,
As those less 'cerebral' begged for the list
Of definitions for fission, labial, even tuber,
And the bud of intelligence, like that of Shubert,
Blossomed that year in Biology II,
But it's not a course I would like to redo.