In response to a challenge at Ekphrastic Review. Here are all the poems generated by this photo of a Colombian Breastplate. Thanks, Lorette, for including my poem with the others!
A golden, first century breastplate —
mythic protection in battle. Mortals
have sought aegis from the gods
since time began, it seems.
When my youngest was three,
he wore an Incredible Hulk T-shirt
every day for a year, certain his kinship
with the angry green goliath
could transmogrify a toddler
to a Titan older kids would fear.
I hope the Columbian warrior
with a flying deity on his chest
found more success than my guileless,
doomed boy, whose brother and sister
held him down and made him smell
the lint in their belly buttons.
– Sarah Russell
First published in Ekphrastic Review
Sarah Russell Poetry 
i love your take on this. such a funny ending.
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Poor little kid was doomed. That year at pre-school when he went on his birthday in a different t-shirt, the teacher asked him what his name was. He was taken aback and said, “I’m Jared!” She answered. “No, you can’t be. Jared wears an Incredible Hulk t-shirt everyday.” He said, “I growed up now. I’m 4!” But alas, the persecution continued…
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Love, love, love this. (And that birdman looks fierce enough to have been the Incredible Hulk of its day.)
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I think so too, and Birdman could fly!! Thanks, Rosemary.
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I can relate 🙂
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Youngest children, unite!!
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Now THAT is something it took real ingenuity for his brother and sister to think up. So funny (except not so funny for your small Hulk.)
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They built blanket forts and watched cartoons in the basement on Saturday mornings. Didn’t know about torturing their little brother until they were nearly grown.
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This made me smile really!
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Thanks, Mary. The analogy came to me immediately. I’d never thought of a t-shirt he-man becoming a warrior’s breastplate until then. I had fun writing it.
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Sigh. I can relate to your youngest son, Sarah. For me, it was Wonder Woman, during the mid-1970s. Never really like the Hulk, too smash first, think later.
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My daughter is still a Wonder Woman fan. Yeah, the Hulk was too violent for me too, but my youngest thought that was his only savior at the time. Thanks for stopping by, Therisa.
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Wow.. I must save this poem for when my nephew grows older- at 5, he loves his green hulk gloves!!! Love where you took that prompt Sarah!
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Thanks, Rajani. My littlest kid, now 42, liked it too. Awhile back I gave him a vintage Hulk lunch box for Christmas. He loved it, and had to tell the story to his kids of his “bromance” with the big green man.
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I think individual development closely parallels the human mythic — so we are first hominids when born, Bronze Age marauders at 2, Old Testamental by 6, etc. By that age I was haunted by and hunted Eve, playing doctor in the woods. Anyway, great ekprhasing of old into new.
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You have a point, Brendan. So what happens to those guys who are still wearing Avengers t-shirts at 27 or 30? Arrested development? Thanks for stopping by.
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Yes — Boys are notoriously un-initiated into manhood. So many never leave Fantasyland.
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This made me smile 💞 Love the analogy here 😀
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Thanks, Sanaa. It’s tough being the youngest!
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I am laughing, laughing, and laughing some more at that last stanza. Priceless!
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Thanks so much! Such indignities he suffered…
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Your transition from mythical warrior to child-trying-survive is so smooth. And I really love that tenderness you put into the last two stanzas… There is a hint of humor–with the bellybutton lint sniffing and all–but the smiles don’t mask the tone that suggests the speaker really wish she could save the child from the indignity.
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Thanks, Magaly. Because I was an only child, I loved and continue to love watching my three kids interact. Even as adults they’re good friends. Probably all that horsing around as kids contributes to that, but yes, I wish I could have saved him!
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