Will the New Lawn Be a Meadow

“Space is only noise if you can see”  –Nicolas Jaar


a lake is strung through

with braided wire


fence posts trail placidly

like dead fingers


participating in their own wake


seventeen-year cicadas

stir in the thorn


a wet season’s parasite load

and the pack beast stops eating


exposed wires in a root ball

hang from the ceiling


amputated ombre tulips

standing like wrists in water


afraid to speak in the house

that it might answer back


the house stayed lit all night

and the sleeper too


convinced that a stray voice

has just said its name


its thin bone sticks in the ear


every Orpheum in the heartland

starts playing the same movie 


a chorus of blueshifted Dorothys

go all technicolor at once


-Zachary Anderson

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