It’s next-day repetitive but it’s not dead yet.
It’s static over airwaves over borders into walls
and windows and heated-seat conduits,
coughing up fossils in fumes to move faster.
It’s dying, though. It’s being choked out
by podcasts, by ugly kitchen stimulation …
Poem, in its entirety, is available in the printed version of the current issue.
Bio:
Jonathan Focht’s most recent work is forthcoming in the Literary Review of Canada and the Malahat Review. He lives in Montreal.