Monster memory, saddled with time’s burden,
folds out of the dark plain. Pain twists
into horse, eyelash, dolphin, tongue.
Watches melt oblivious down the left foreground,
slipping off rigid planes and brittle branches.
Ants, silly creatures, gather casually
on the closed face of one watch, guard
this stillbirth of meaning. A slab of rock
rises out of water and fog from the background
to the right, nailing down what wants to slip.
The numbers are all in order – a perfect exercise:
plane, object, plane, object, plane.
Something jars into disbelief.
Diane Wahto received an MFA in creative writing from Wichita State University in 1985. She has co-edited two editions of the anthology, 365 Poems. Her book of poetry, The Sad Joy of Leaving, published by Blue Cedar Press, will come out in September 2018. Her blog may be found at Poet of a Certain Age (https://poetofacertainage.wordpress.com/.) Her latest publications in include “Empty Corners,” in Same, and “The Yellow Dress,” in Gimme Your Lunch Money. She and her husband Patrick Roche live in Wichita, Kansas, with their dog Annie, a waif she found running loose on the Kansas Turnpike.
The Ekphrastic Review
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