artwork: lidija ivanek
by Edward John DiMaio
I am darkness waiting in soil, crazed by
time and things too small to matter.
A plan, strategy, or lie set me in this
fertile field. Those reasons shifted to other
lands. Scared, crazed boys I laid for are
gone, old men with stories to tell. Our
paths did not cross.
Shells of war no longer vibrate my
tenuous form. Other kinds of vibrations
come to me now. Some flow from hooves
of oxen pulling shiny plow blades
through fertile fields. Your eyes
may catch a flash of sunlight off the
A flash waits within my rusty soul.
Near where I lay children play. I feel
the light vibration of their toughened feet
running freely in the light of day.
Watching their exuberance you may see
sunlight flash bright in their eyes.
A flash waits within me.
Mine is a killing flash, that maims all in
its path. I am the flash that would
splatter the farmer with bits of mangled
oxen. I am the flash that would sever a
When I flash, tension returns, war rages
Until that time I will wait here
among soft treading creatures of this
~ previously published in Sound, Scent & Light
(The Face of May)