Ken Poyner
labors by day as an information management specialist; he splits his remaining time between writing and acting as eye-candy at his wife’s power lifting meets.
He has published often during the last 40 years, recent examplies being Menacing Hedge, Corium, Eclectica, The Adirondack Review, and Poet Lore. He and his wife live in the lower right hand corner of Virginia with five rescue cats and one fierce fish.
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Victims Of Modern Advertising
The ants think no one is watching,
But everyone is watching.
Of course, they are watching.
The ants move along the door’s
Threshold and choose one distinct point
Of entry. Then they move into the house
In a line merely a quarter inch wide.
Why do they not fan out?
Do you think they know
Where they are going?
The line bends and skews,
But keeps its width. No
Exploration of the marcher lands,
No excursions. They will end
In the kitchen as a black line
Scaling a cabinet, weaving
Across a counter top, prying
Into domestic storage. Forgive me,
But it is always this way: a colony
From the outside, emptying in.
Do you think they know
About the poison bait cocked sideways
Between the dishes and the dish rack?
Oh yes. Of course you do.
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