Imaginary Lines
Here along the bank of a dry riverbed
where spring runoff once boiled and gargled
now dust sifts in near-constant wind
only close attention can separate into gusts
Tumbleweeds tumble, lizards swift as flies
despite their awkward back-twisting four-legged gait
race over fossilized bones of some long-dead animal
In each lizard’s small body-mind a planet spins
its for-now-unheard history in the original tongues
An imaginary line used to run through here
an equator, the waist of an imaginary planet
perfectly round mostly ocean with islands
large and small now imagined nearly barren
but for insects and microbes
We don’t have to be present to imagine
not in the usual sense
Presence has layers felt every-here
but seen only by the very patient
even centuries away
Winds sing in imagining ears
songs of the dead-yet-not-dead;
from layers down where forgetting isn’t possible
night calls of wolves and owls rise
So you wish the world were different, said the Muse
so it didn’t work only in the ways you see
ignoring your primal values of justice and compassion?
A lizard look flashed over her face
a first-day look prior to a creative division
into amusement, pity and cruelty
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