Our Plan B drifted through
the weathered door in the ogre’s ear.
He brought his kaleidoscope
into the mix: what joy!
And then he fixed our dread
in his awful toy.
This is the part of the story
meant to elicit gasps,
but the narrative gaps
are too spacious,
too mammoth to be filled
with mere breath.
And honestly, hasn’t this
been done to death already?
While I make heroic efforts
to steady my trembling right-ing hand,
the whole of history dissolves
into a dazzling drone.
This may be, after all,
the loneliest I’ve ever been.
-r. miller
The Narrative Gaps
Published
