Diminished Things

For months I'd heard the sad insistent call 

of hidden bird: high low--three tones apart. 

I hooked the name of Oven Bird from book 

and read of one that mourned diminished things, 

remembered not Frost's harbinger of fall 

lamenting change but the belling of 

my own name as my mother rang it every 

summer dusk to close the oven of 

imaginative play, to yield myself 

and all apparent ends to the dark 

and rising mystery of things on that 

day heard but not yet seen, diminished, named. 


Poem, Copyright 2001,  Kathleen Dale Body Landscape 
Image Copyright 2001,  Pamela Moore Dionne

Kathleen Dale is a poet who teaches creative writing and other courses at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. Most recently, she has published in River Oak Review (poetry & physics issue), Mystic River Review, Pandora, Petroglyph, The Pedestal Magazine and The Chiron Review.

Diminished Things is a sonnet without rhyme, using twelve instead of fourteen lines,  iambic pentameter, and a closing envoi or message.

Pamela Moore Dionne studied painting through the University of Alaska Extension in Ketchikan, Alaska and with Mel Wallace at Olympic College.  She is the founder and managing editor of Literary Salt which can be found online at www.literarysalt.com.
Previous Contents  Next