Our Minds Wear Us Like a Glove

The monarch must think us geologic
in longevity. I remind Frank at Old Faithful
the volcano stays put while the crust moves
over it, the park is a snapshot of rock,
an accident of when we are. A kind of koan,
what will be here after no human names it?
I am just a vantage point, how can I go
back home when it’s so beautiful here?

Author of the article

Barbara Duffey is the author of two poetry collections, most recently Simple Machines (2016), which won the 2015 Washington Prize. She has received fellowships from the NEA, the Jentel Foundation, and the South Dakota Arts Council. A professor of English at Dakota Wesleyan University, she lives in Mitchell, SD. Read more of her work on her website.