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poem



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. 

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