Response to “The Persistence of Memory” by Salvador Dali

A fly-dominated clock squirms

                to the earth-Defeated. broken. convulsing.

We sleep. Not dead, but close. A discarded

Rag or novelty forgotten with age.

                Dreaming on blade clear shores - suddenly -

Devoured by ants (or rather their darkness).

Does the distant white pebble

Have breath to speak its mind?

No. It knows no word for silence.