"X" is for "Solve for X"

Solve for X

It marks the spot.

Names a generation whose rage, 
being causeless (That is, 
without purpose) 

acquired and became 
despair. 

Signifies a beloved
with whom one once dreamt of union, 

who’s now, if not at cross-
purposes, at a remove. 

Replaces names 
or disguises them. 

Suffices for signatures of the illiterate, 
who have, after all, 
no names of significance. 

Names the bland, 
generic brand. 

Signifies anonymity,
ignominy, deceit, 
disguise.

Where a circle invites what is possible,
X commits only to no or yes. 

Precedes, as sound, 
all sorts of divisions:

verbs of exclusion, 
nouns and descriptors 
of what lies outside,

whether for condemnation 
or special praise.

Excoriate, excuse, example, excessive,
Excommunicate, execute, extol, excrete, 
Exfoliate, exhume, extricate, extend, 

Expensive, exogenous, extreme,
Exhaust. 

A fragile one makes you exceptional, 
if not in the way you’d wish:

No access to Xanadu’s exotic utopia—

only to the special-ed room 
at the end of the longest hall, 
next to the exit sign. 

Two in a nucleus make you 
the weaker sex, 
able to make and bear new human beings.

Names the ray which exposes the gloomy 
constellation inside the lung,

then the blue-green tattoo 
which directs the radiologist’s aim.

Tipped forty-five degrees to the left 
or right, it forms the cross later 
that marks the grave,

signifying one path of faith 
or its facsimile,

with all χριστός may
include, anoint, embrace—

But now the poem speeds on 
beyond that obvious station, 

X resisting a rest
at the Christian grave.

Just when I thought 
it intended to settle there, 

X reopened its wings 
and flew.

—Donna Henderson

(from my forthcoming, new collection, “Advice To Guest Residents”)