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Hail the ant mill's circling spinners
we cry from our chests at the screenlight fire.
March to the end in pomp and shivers.
Round round rosey sings the choir
as the bell-penny promise of the mule-skinner
piles the pocket posies higher.
"Hail the ant mill's circling spinners!
Aquifers! Drink 'em drier!
Well to whistle!" chant the buyers.
We dance in thrall as the air goes thinner,
our lashlines labeled stress and sliver,
a tightening backwards down the gyre
to the holding center—paid entire—
all the ant mill's circling spinners
marching to the end in pomp and shivers.
Peleg Held lives in Portland, Maine with his partner and his dog Emitt. There is also the semi-feral cat, Smudge. And a kid or two. pelegheld(at)gmail.com.
