Tuned in but tuned out by
rabbit ears on a thick-back television
projecting those chlorine clouds
cantering over I-20, I’m in
the moment and aware and
having a conscious thought from the
past to the present. A warning sign
when I think about pool chemicals,
meant for swimming, swimming in
air meant to breathe, surging in hills
and creeks of the Piedmont.
Canary in the coal mine,
frogs in the creek.
When the indifference lies in the
ability to speak, what happens
to those whose language we
can’t understand?
My words, a cry—
my future cannot hear me
as those clouds hide the
downturn
the
skyrocket
the—
end.
