Poetry of Issue #7        Page 17

Dimension Dreams

Oh, rebar-duck of gross dimensions!
You sit yet in the lot

where the non-profit purveys
used goods as you certainly have been

            (though for what use I cannot say.)

already twisted rust when the years
began your heavy stay.

If only a giant’s garden needed you
as a prop for bird-houses, butterfly-rests,

feeders for all sorts of critters, even a folly
for the eyes to feast,

             (yet too rough for clutch of child’s hand).

So blame not your cyclopean self—
it is the world, too small
for your heroic proportions—

and as you remain, growing heftier
under sky and seasons, hope for expansion,

continental drift, tectonic shift, or just
a plain blowing-up, the earth ballooning,

beefing up, to proper gas-giant girth.

  John Zedolik