“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