World in the Hands 
After Afaa Michael Weaver 
Painted glass like a 
maimed whale 
charting the world 
with his sea lifting tail. 
Melted souls 
that sweat in trickles 
of bees and demons 
that cruise in dimming light. 
The dead leaves are like 
young children returning books 
to the final depository. 
If leaders are paper baby cups 
can they be molded? 
Or is it not grief that is 
writing today. 
Just a question. 
Why? 
d. n. simmers is an on line editor with Fine Lines. He is in will be in Poetry Salzburg Review, the Storyteller, Iconoclast, Plainsongs, California Quarterly, Poets Touchstone, Bluestem, and  Nomad's Choir. He is on line in poetrymag.com, red river review, new american digital, storyacious, and word press. He is in an newly launched anthology Royal City Poets ( 4) and was in Van Gogh's Ear, Paris France. 
loved the lines 'charting the world with his sea-lifting tail'
ReplyDeleteThere is sorrow in this wind...
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