poem written about the above painting by Salvidor Dali, "The Persistence of Time"
image from portraitflip.com
poem submitted to "1471" poetry contest, Brian Strand, sponsor, May 10, 2026
The clocks have given up their posture, slipping into themselves like tired creatures too weary to keep the world awake. Time drapes over branches, over ledges, over the pale, sleeping face that might be a memory or a dream that refuses to rise. Along time’s periphery, the sun hangs heavy, a molten coin no one bothers to spend. Shadows stretch like questions that never learned to speak. Even the ants~ those tiny, tireless archivists~ crawl across the metal as if trying to carry away what time once meant. Across this desert where hours drip like wax, motion stops, yet everything bows~ a place where time loses its outline, and memory alone refuses to fade.
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