I Can’t Stand Along the Watchtower

By Chris Toll

Many are stalled,
but few are frozen.
Emily sits on the edge of my bed
and says, “You can’t go on
without an image from your dreams.”
I throw my saddle
on the spider’s back.
Why is a path in antipathy?
Why is Ant in Antichrist?
Anger drives a midsize luxury sedan
and a cheetah sleeps on an adverb.
Ruth doesn’t belong in a poem
unless she’s wearing a wig
and paying cash for a train ticket.