White warriors posted in the wind,
arms moving like synchronized swimmers
to a symphony of corn husks and diesel engines.
I see them towering in the distance like watchful
giants of a fairy tale once told. I am so small
and insignificant when standing next to them,
these monoliths woven into the heartland’s quilted fields.
You laugh at my imagination, I am silly you say.
They are our instruments of servitude, our slavers
built in dirt. They are our prophets, our masters,
our gods divined of necessity.
Three arms that go round and round like a prayer
to a trinity, a hallmark of destiny-
too fast for Quixote, not fast enough for dead dinosaurs.
Sonya Groves is a teacher of English and History in San Antonio. She has published a short story in the Abydos Education Journal and has poetry publications in La Noria, The Voices Project, Aries, and Cliterature. Also, she has been a conference presenter at the East Carolina University Multi-Cultural Literature Review Conference. Currently she is pursuing her Master’s degree in English at Our Lady of the Lake University.
