Born claw deep in curious
I prodded answers with
a question, but curiosity
was still hungry for why.
My daughter’s inquiry
of the reason for a name
produced the knowledge
I was named after a pestering child.
No matter how high the questions
climbed they never reached satisfaction.
The rationality behind my name
remained a mysterious link to aggravation.
What my mother failed to consider
in her propensity to express dark humor
was she might actually be stung
by the prophetic snare of her tongue.
©Susie Clevenger 2015
NaPoWriMo ~ Day 20
I am the little girl with the scraped knee sitting on my father's lap.