i walk out to the middle of corn field
& lay on my back, looking up
at the great greening sky. the stalks
are still low this early in the season.
closing my eyes, i ask god for a television
& one falls beside me. boxy & old.
probably flung from a back room.
god often only donates what is no longer
of use to him. i set the TV on my lap
& promise to feed him energy. plug him in
somewhere eternal. only, there are no plugs
in the midst of a corn field. cradle him.
smooth his forehead. i too was once
just a television. patient for feeding.
a simulation of geese glide over head
on a loop. the glitch is still being worked out
but that's what they've said all year.
sometimes i look at my hand & then it's gone.
nothing but bone & smog. the house's power strip
shutters & groans. i leave the TV
in the field where he is safe & travel
to the sources. find my outlet weeping
& tell it's alright. it's coming. she calms down.
nothing is coming, i just wanted to comfort her.
then from the den i find an extension cord:
coarse from use. knicks all along the throat.
stroll the miles & miles back into the field.
field of sway & drone & fire hazard. field of
lime sound & loneliness. i find the television
right where i left him. push the plug
into his back & watch the static storm.
voices behind a wool veil.
lay down again & listen.