art-time-collective

the high tension wires hum on a still day
hear them when the cicada buzz dims
when the sea gulls that gather in parking lots are quiet and fed
these new towers we watched them raise already rust
red brown mascara tears streaming from each bolt
and we all stop and look and ponder impermanence or whatever
or just listen to the hum when the cicadas level off
when the gulls are restful in the sun
the hum is steady and low and, people used to say, cancerous
carcinogenic like chewing gum or cigarettes or the sun
empty lots near the big towers at low prices for thrillseekers
for those of us who don’t mind telling friends and neighbours, no
it’s just a myth, and, anyway, do you hear the hum?
wait for the cicadas to fade into the trees and the wind to slow
and no sea gulls here but the crows try hard to do their job
seeing the need for a creature that eats fries off the ground
and carries on loud conversations in single syllables
and scowls and gets scowled at
as they scream loudly to anyone who will listen and understand
HELLO, YOU DON’T KNOW ME, BUT I AM A CROW
perhaps adding AND I AM IN THIS TREE
or swooping to the ground to investigate a dropped lunch
filled mouth quieted so we can hear the hum
warming our ears; subtle underneath the 17-year cicadas
that squirmed out of the ground to socialize and fuck and die
ratcheting buzzsaw sound that sweeps across town in great waves
and we’ll all miss them in the 18th year but we won’t know what’s gone
we’ll notice more hum, more gulls from further away
and we’ll breathe in the thick summer air
and exhale our waste in a long sigh
and try to sleep under the towers, looking up
watching airplanes cut long scars into clear sky

Filed under: unicorns