Seven Holes in Your Head

Count them. There are more of course,
All the pores. What counts as hole
Is arbitrary as what

Counts as whole, and we’re nothing
If not counts arbitrary.
But those seven matter more

To the value of your head
Than brains give them credit for.
If your eyes were at your waist,

If you were a gastropod
(A successful strategy,
More speciose than bipeds),

Or were armed with ear shoulders,
There’d be no science fiction
Movies about heads in jars,

Few neurons dedicated
For searching out soul windows
By recognizing faces.

It’s to the holes in your head,
Animal soul, we address
Our whole selves. Take this as read.