| We are Here. There looks better, though it could be a trick; illusion, bad camera angles. We won’t lose a thing by going There. Here fits into There, a matrouska of defunct eyes and ears. The move from Thither to Yon implies a stretch of homelessness. Against the horizon, words spread out like a migration of wings on rivers reflecting mountains; and vice-versa, a tautology of blue. We’d never have gone if we’d known we’d end up right where we started. |
Cheryl Snell is a two- time
Pushcart Prize nominee and the author of two chapbooks of poetry, Flower
Half Blown (Finishing Line Press, 2002) and Epithalamion
(Little Poem Press, 2004). Her novel, Shiva’s Arms, will
be out next year from The Writer’s Lair Books. |