"Merchants, Port Said" by Ethel Spowers

Our attempts at survival are like swimming in a whirlpool. Around and around we go, and though it will eventually swallow us up, we can slow, even forget about the descent with energetic movement. And why not enjoy it, too? 

"Still Life" by Ethel Spowers

I can feel my eyeballs shift
Almost hear the sound
Of the squooshy spheres moving
From one side to the other
Following the light
Cut through the dark.
So many strange artifacts
Arranged in a curious manner.
So many places to settle
And become very quiet
And wonder about this margin
Between the living
And the dead.

"The Bamboo Blind" by Ethel Spowers

This is the most comfortable green cushion. I've sat here a while, so it's warm and less springy than it used to be. I'm distracted by, interested in these two large and lively silhouettes. The ball flies between them like a sparrow. Out there is a big world full of bright light, loud sounds, and huge movements. My green cushion is so comfy. My toy boat, so docile and quaint. I like to pick it up and peer inside its tiny windows.

"Tug of War" by Ethel Spowers

Two in the center pitted against each other yet joined by the tight grip of hands, their arms stretched like a slingshot. Behind each of these foes is a line of fellow warriors, arms all around waists, heels dug into the ground and pull, pull, pull! Nonparticipants kick and hoot from the sidelines. They think they want a resolution to all this tension. In the heat of battle they long for relief and don't consider casualties. They fail to appreciate the exquisite calm that results from balance.