the ant makes progress towards himself
TRANSCRIPT
![Page 1: The Ant Makes Progress Towards Himself](https://reader036.vdocuments.us/reader036/viewer/2022081812/57509e391a28abbf6b0f333f/html5/thumbnails/1.jpg)
The Ant Makes Progress Towards HimselfAuthor(s): Jack MyersSource: The Iowa Review, Vol. 4, No. 4 (Fall, 1973), p. 81Published by: University of IowaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20158133 .
Accessed: 13/06/2014 01:56
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp
.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].
.
University of Iowa is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Iowa Review.
http://www.jstor.org
This content downloaded from 195.34.79.223 on Fri, 13 Jun 2014 01:56:13 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
![Page 2: The Ant Makes Progress Towards Himself](https://reader036.vdocuments.us/reader036/viewer/2022081812/57509e391a28abbf6b0f333f/html5/thumbnails/2.jpg)
THE FAMILY WAR
My father made meals underwater
while the war went on. He stirred
enormous pots of s.o.s. in the belly of a ship, thinking of me held upside down, he flipped
an extra dash of salt
into the stew as the big guns pushed and recoiled like a woman in labor.
There was a war, the smell of irons
steaming in small apartments and sons
aiming wooden rifles at each other.
There was ma grown big bellied with me
facing the windy sea, that double image of waiting, dad, a cold shuttling ocean throwing up stones and salt.
But you came back and blocked up all
the windows in the house until my brother
threw the first punch through the wall.
Then you felt at home, coming at us
in the darkness like a grey slug from the big guns ready to explode.
THE ANT MAKES PROGRESS TOWARDS HIMSELF
If the page isn't a hole for escape, you learn
to fill the entrance with stones and fear
the thunder that comes rolling to the roots
of your progress. Sometimes, isn't it always
night, you'll carve your rest into the wall
and yell is this enough? The same thin yell that told you where to dig
comes back. Nothing matters until another tunnel breaks through yours. Then the shock is seeing someone with your face; that there's so little left of it, it's grown so dark, it is the blackness shining at the end.
Criticism
This content downloaded from 195.34.79.223 on Fri, 13 Jun 2014 01:56:13 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions