by D. E. Kern
Colossal Irony
The Seven Wonders walked the Flatiron
and pressed noses to glass at Central Perk
studying the mélange you get when star
gazing flattens self-reflection. Zeus asked
Colossus what the feds meant by merit
in the latest rules for migrants, and they
both looked sadly at the pyramid, hung
their heads at the gardens, realized neither
stood a chance in a nation afflicted
by memory loss. Just four subway stops
shy of the main branch, Alexandria’s
special collections even raised distrust.
Distraught, Diana hanged in Bryant Park;
the mother of exiles lost in the dark.
D. E. Kern is a writer and educator from Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. His work has appeared in Appalachian Review, Big Muddy, Limestone, The Rio Grande Review, and the Sierra Nevada Review, among others. He teaches English at Arizona Western College where he also directs the Honors Program. When he is not teaching or writing, he enjoys fishing. He and his wife, Neesha, spend their summers in Central Minnesota.