Ode to an Oblique
What
do we seek
from you,
slanted oblique,
leaning any which way
but a-plumb
on your feet?
On and on
on the fence,
are you for or against?
Take a stand,
show your hand,
help my sentence
make sense.
You’re a flexible
line whose
employment is rife
with contextual ops,
like a Swiss Army knife.
Whether spoken
or writ,
you belong
to no stock —
save the fricative
sound sometimes
voiced in Iraq.
As a mercen’ry mark
halfway ‘tween
several sides
you’ve a pivotal role
that unites
or divides.
With a
jaunty incline
you present us
with cues —
whether yes/no
or and/or,
the readers must choose.
When you serve
equal rights,
you’re an ardent defender
of t/s/he/y,
or language degendered.
You’re handy
for shorthand,
math, money,
and prompts,
bridging numbers
and words
when and where
you may romp.
Slender bender
of bearings,
both forward and back,
every toggle
of angle
deflects what you flack.
You might link us
to websites,
or fractionalize,
saving ink
with each sync-up
of unlike allies.
But for nitpicks
of syntax
you’re punct’s last resort,
after dashes,
conjunctions,
and parts of that sort.
They’d prefer that
your presence
is minor at most,
not for formal
composing of lit —
maybe prose.
It’s the issue of
vagueness
that’s authored the fight
between backers
of slashes and
team Strunk & White.
As for me,
it depends on my
aims to evoke
as to whether
I’ll tether
your fair-weather
stroke.
