F.J. Bergmann

The Motionless Poem

The poem stuck its petal tongue to the metal
and froze there.

When time shriveled to an icicle point
of weary light and winked out,
it decided to hibernate,
curled into sleep bristling with nasty dreams,
and never woke up.

It crouched to spring and waited for prey
that had become extinct.

It had not moved in years,
so they mistook it for an ornamental object
and varnished it.

Inside its immobile shell, clockwork and dust
counterbalance in the cantilevered dark,
still alive.

F.J. Bergmann lives in Wisconsin, for the 4th or 5th time, and at www.fibitz.com. While she lacks literary academic credentials, she is kind to those so encumbered. Her work has recently appeared in 13th Warrior Review, 21 Stars Review, Foliate Oak, Opium, Press 1, and a chapbook, Aqua Regia (Parallel Press 2007).

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