Sally Zakariya


Becalmed on the lake, held between
water and sky, surrounded by reality
and its reflection, you’re tricked by time.

Now stretches endlessly before
and behind and around you,
a single stream, or so it seems.

But close your eyes and Now
splits into slivers, into splinters,
the beat of the dragonfly’s wing,

the unmeasurable interval
between the glint of a fish
and your perception of Fish.

A leaf that floats beside the canoe
has no doubt taken its time
from the tree to this precise spot,

to be here, now, beside you,
at this precise moment in time,
when you open your eyes

to a sun standing still in the sky.

Sally Zakariya

has placed poems in more than sixty print and online journals and has won prizes from Poetry Virginia and the Virginia Writers Club. She is the author of When You Escape (Five Oaks Press, 2016), Insectomania (2013), and Arithmetic and Other Verses (2011) and the editor of the poetry anthology Joys of the Table (2015). She blogs at