What Kind of Time
by Velda L. Thomas
A figure finds himself caught
lodged between the windshield
of my mini-van and its wiper.
How long will he struggle there to exist?
remaining by becoming another,
escapee of self.
Who could endure the punishment of thrashing
70 mph wind which cruelly strikes his hind portion,
lifting it to increase the unnatural acute angle of its trapping.
Unrelenting tapping on my windshield.
He is dying here
I recognize the art
No. Still alive.
This surprises me.
There is something utterly amazing I see,
spanning several of my interrupted minutes, as I glance
from my passenger's window view of South Dakota
Swifts and Swallows.
Bluestem grasses, Rock wrens and Pronghorn;
Bighorn, Bison, Junipers, Cottonwood,
Yucca and Wild roses-
I chase the moving musing garden with my eyes,
chase it to the doorway of the struggling bug's universe,
all laid out before me,
under the blade of the wiper
on the shield of my shell.
Denying himself, he slips out of the hollow case,
to leave behind the hindering part, though it was useful,
Free from the narrow place.
Rest on the fast current that pounds the dead,
empty cone of a tail.
And this is the issue.
Copyright held by:
Velda L. Thomas
Los Angeles, CA 90292-6695