- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Tiny Epitaph
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Click hereBeneath this sandal
lie the remains of a good ant
by the name of Jonathan Taggard.
He could muscle a morsel
out of the diner and across the street
to a bald, hilly lot.
Jonathan Taggard leaves behind
a colony that will go without
baklava tonight.
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copyright d. dixon
2005/2006
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- COMMENTS
lorencinoover 15 years ago<br>It's so totally apt I didn't even notice the image on the first read. I mean, that's exactly what these little creatures do, they muscle stuff around.<br><br> I suppose that an aspect of really good poetry is precisely this quality of being able to provide deeply rich imagery that does its work without drawing to much attention to itself.<br>
ishtatover 15 years agoI wonder why we smile at small sadness's? Thankful we're not stuck to the underside of a sandal. I dunno. Nice obsevation.
Tzaraover 15 years agoThe phrase "muscle a morsel" is particularly nice--it wouldn't work in many poems, but is perfect here.
sassynycover 15 years agoThis made me laugh, in it's brilliance. It has all the solemnity, reserved for the deceased, and in the appropiate tone. Yet I can't help cackling. It is, after all, an ant. How fitting that his murderer should conduct his send off ceremony. I think the detail of the baklava made it that much more amusing. You are so twisted. It's one of my favorite things about your poetry. :D
