back home
staining they sketchpads with inks
up all night alone they would not buy the lies for free
misfit friends in they head. loner celebration
extinguished the tv and touched the room with radio
they cast they line
deep and trolled for broken
hearts
#katyamills
when
her lips parted to speak
radio waves flooded the room and
soaked the floral kitchen
wallpapers
the brief winter daylight
lengthened several hours around
her persuasion
we all fell asleep
effortlessly
#katyamills
on the roughest days they
turned up the radio
hoping joie de vivre might
rub off. the no knock warrants of mood
and memory
how lucky
to be alive
#katyamills
when you feel unwanted
like static
to airwaves
remember
sometimes
only you
can see see how
essential you
are
stay true to
you
constant
trustworthy
anchored between
stations
even static has its righteous
place in this
world
the kick back sunday, cooking a simple breakfast for you and someone you love, listening to a game on the radio, when you get the call…and you take the call…and cannot say the things you need to say. left with that sinking feeling. how can we stick up for ourselves? we must find a way to speak our truth. then continue on with the kick back sunday, laughing and carrying on and not haunted by the omission.
Over airwaves easy works its way
into the soul as sun
dissects the
wood
Saturdays
extra innings
makes the home
and lives complete
our last reflection
enduring
American
pastime
a poet is not a songbird
aloft in dreamcoat
colors
a poet
cannot be silenced
neither
a poet is caught in a
generic plastic box
unadorned
undusted
telling time by
a cheap clock and
who cares the time is wrong
gnarled wire cut up
stragglin’ behind
an empty hole for
square batteries
long since
outdated
half-chewed by cats
and dogs and stretched
from fallin’
past its
limit
gettin’ weak signal
so sensitive you
cannot hide
the
noise
K IS SILENT 