“Our Rats Are Hounds”my fifteenth ekphrastic response for National Poetry Month prompted by another painting showing the incisive art of Marcel Herms.

15 The dogs are at it again[24975]

Our Rats Are Hounds

Seas full of icebergs
in the middle of the world.

Frozen spikes of water
are concrete and glass
that show the passage of light,

a shoulder, a leg, a skull,
that looks like a truck
that looks like a street
strides over and out
of reflection.

Beware windows keep faces
behind two panes

eyes, cheeks, teeth captured
when you glance through
a wrong glass at the outside.

From these travels
circumnavigation of my ocular orbs
I have discovered:

My chameleon is a wild goat
that neither eats or drinks
always mouth open
it lives on air.

My wild swine is an oxen,
brindled like fawns or does
My hedgehog is a porcupine
or a lion, white, big and strong.

My rhinoceros is a horse,
with a black head,
three horns on the brow,
sharp as swords.

My rats are hounds,
big as bears with six feet,
two claws on each foot.

My world is rounded
by my eyeballs,
I tack round their oceans
stop off at islands of light.

 

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