George Salis has sold stories to The Dark, Black Dandy, Zizzle Magazine, and elsewhere. He has taught in Bulgaria, China, and Poland. He is currently working on a maximalist novel titled Morphological Echoes. www.GeorgeSalis.com
An Echo Echoes Pharaohs
An echo, not the first, metamorphosed by way
of physical ripripples up
from the table of a lost supper.
The caustic causes?
Kamikaze in WW3.
Below, a comical boy who entered through the exit of a tablecloth cave, invaginated.
Enema of venomous nebula.
Above, the mold-man-cloud’s maw opens in feverish famine.
Bivalve drowned in sodium.
All is cause
Crawling between the feet and legs of evaporated attendees
the cawing boy bumps his brain on table’s bottom.
Echoes, not the last, traversing a metempsychotic byway
of incorporeal underundulations down
from the bleat of last respite:
Spoon in glass stained by purple parfait
wandering peasant woman in search of her face
stunted tower of Babel.
An egg hardboiled till fossilization atop broken bread
crestfallen peasant woman’s sister eyeing callused palms
chip off the ol’ rock of Gibraltar.
A cluster of wine-darkened grapes
supine beggar contemplating levitation
immaculate wall built for the purpose of
measuring its own
The horizon a soiled glass
of settled oil in liquid gold,
delineating no thing.
Pharaohs, not the first nor the last, continue beyond
inexplicable vision in superposition.
upon Einstein’s cross.
All is loss
An ekphrastic poem based on Dalí’s Morphological Echo (1936).