The thrill of the miniature

holds the pleasure inherent

in power.


As we snip at our stunt-work,

what we call care

is crippling, belittling


            as the bandage wrapped

round the lotus foot.

The appeal


of the diminutive

            lies in easy mastery.

            We penetrate a bottle to build


a ship, made all

the more magnificent

by our ability to lift it.


Sarah J. Sloat lives in Germany, where she works in news. Her poems have appeared in Bateau, Court Green, Birdfeast and Linebreak, among other publications. Her chapbook, Excuse me while I wring this long swim out of my hair, was published by Dancing Girl Press in 2011. Sarah keeps a blog at The Rain in My Purse.

A tree is usually too huge and unruly to bring indoors, unless you choose the docile bonsai. We have four bonsais in the house, in various stages of surrender. Tending them is an exercise in patience, but also a show of power.  We love them because they’re beautiful. We love them because they make us giants.




Copyright 2009