Ancients – Taunja Thomson

The suns sail, lamps
lit in the palace as drakes float
through mist.  Our state
of being–sin remains silent
on the subject.  The divine floats
to the surface, soft as water.  O night,
cool us by the foot
of the idol.  Constant breath
of gods, smell of soil, the snake
coiled and sleek.  Soon–dead
to the world, ringing
thin and hollow.  Grains
of sand, we will cover
the ocean floor and bear
the weightlessness of gliding
creatures and grain and temples
of grass.  For now, we pass
the time with wealth.



Taunja Thompson’s work has most recently appeared in Sandy River Review (2015) and Watershed (2015). She is currently working on a collaborative chapbook of ekphrastic poetry. She has a writer’s page on Facebook at, and resides in Kentucky with her husband and six cats, where she practices collage craft, terrarium creation, and water gardening.