The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 8/13/08

Not exactly relevant to A, S, & AH, but it tanked in the Lounge and I figure at least a few people here will appreciated it.

"Behind the Big Screen"

A million ants are trapped at a beach inside your set,
said the girl on my first grade playground
after I asked why t.v. channels blurred with snow.
For years I half-believed her, searched for proof,
staring each night until a station succumbed to scratchiness,
then craning close to decipher their dance.
Is it any wonder Carol Ann heard voices there,
flattened palm to glass and got trapped in the void?
Once, I saw a man tell Robert Stack that snow
showed him his dead mother,
her brother, relatives he did not remember
surfacing out of static to prophecy the end of the world.
Surely, parts of it live,
work some kind of sorcery,
are worthy of the ankle I sprained
striving to fly like Wonder Woman,
the fingertips I stained flicking cigarettes
as faultlessly as Sharon Stone.
They claim it is the reason
I never mastered multiplication tables,
that I doze beside it because
the drone lulls brain waves lower than deep sleep.
What is the beast that writhes beneath its broadcasts,
this creature snapped awake by my own hand?

—Jennifer Rollings

Sorry that it took me so long to see it and comment. :)

Which sucked for me.