In the lost city of Atlantis
we drift from god to god.
The animals on display have slipped
their feathered cages and gilt chains.
The Big Top sits empty, not even a flea
in the matchbox seats.
It was tricky at first
a skid through marbles on the curve.
The swifts departed in ash plumes
rising from the fractured rim of our existence.
They took the night
We now know through inductive reasoning
and computer simulations they were the night.
And with night comes sleep
and with sleep, dreams.
You see where this narrative
of privation is leading.
Wait. There, behind the goat-shaped cloud—
I think I see another god.
About the writer:
Kim Goldberg is the author of seven book of poetry and nonfiction including Red Zone (poems of homelessness) and Undetectable (her haibun poetry journey through Hepatitis C and cure). Her poetic flights of fancy have appeared in Rattle, Dark Mountain (UK), Literary Review of Canada and elsewhere. She organized the Women’s Eco-Poetry Panel and Workshop for the inaugural Cascadia Poetry Festival in Seattle. Kim lives and speculates in Nanaimo, BC. @KimPigSquash