Untitled

by Ian Schebel

The Mares of Diomedes have gathered to laugh in the face of truth
White waves hiss on the rocks
Throats like pilot-lights
Their cackles face the population
Who do not eat human flesh
or breath fire

I am that population
who do not see the joke
but see, waves growing like children
They are big now
and they make big sounds
Just like that

We think to know who they are
And very hard
As we itch the bottom of our feet
And wipe off the déjà vu sand
That will sink us all the way up
to the tips of our tongues

ian schebel is an artist living quietly in Sheboygan.