One-Eyed Church How does its head stay on its vanished neck? And that green eye touching the witch’s hat: Does it look up or out? Great panes of lake- Blue sky hold up its shadow, each one slit, Envelope-fashion. Funny how its rock- White skirt dissolves in front, thin as a net, While on its left, the hazel-coloured stack Of roof over the barn-shape seems to float. The sides are pressing in. It must be late; A squarish star’s dotting the hat tip, look; The green-eyed witch-tower stands there, jaw stuck out, Not noticing at all that tiny dark Spidery whooshing thing low on its right, Plucked out of space: my secret satellite. Julia Griffin Author's note: "One Eyed Church" is how Lyonel Feininger's Gelmeroda Church seemed to me in my childhood: a wedding gift to my parents from my dead Uncle Geoffrey, always on some room’s wall. Julia Griffin lives in south-east Georgia. She has published in several online poetry magazines, including Light, Classical Outlook, Snakeskin Poetry, and The Ekphrastic Review.
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The Ekphrastic Review
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April 2025
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