I’ve been standing under electric cables
strung between rows of thirty-foot poles
marking the pastoral summer countryside
like inches on a ruler for miles, countless miles
waiting for EMP or ECT to pulsate through
to unlace the wires keeping my synapses aligned
I feel the impulsive hum of electricity
I’ve been lurking in hallways of bank vaults
listening to the click-click of Italian heels
striking endless tallies for broken regulations
meeting executive eyes with my peasantry
waiting for my turn at the American Dream
Luna moths flutter from my tattered tunic
I hear a welfare child whisper bedtime prayers
I’ve been eating produce from Midwestern land
stricken by the aftertaste of pricey pesticides
melting into my liver, liquefying my lungs
a concrete block in the blurry image of an MRI
waiting for these treatments to take effect
to eradicate this tumor from my chest
I taste Diazinon in the silent mountain spring
I’ve been seeking the American ideal
sifting through masses of animated riffraff
molded from the same polished plastic
laughing at myself, an average consumer
waiting for the chance to burn in the spotlight
to reveal my rare talent, just like everyone else
I smell the reeking musk of decadence and lust
I’ve been tracing the borderline at the tip of Texas
running a metal detector along the Florida shore
checking guard towers for shooters with rifles
running fingers across oil-slick crustaceans
waiting for the gradual sea rise
and the social climate change
I sense a revolution forming at our core
I’ve been drawing lines in the solstice snow
stringing thoughts together like endless stories
divining a dead language, a foreign tongue
creating concern for humanity
waiting for the fiction to crystalize
but the winds drift over as I write
I see the sun ascend and diminish the message again
Author Bio:
Jennifer J. Pruiett-Selby is a teacher and mother of four, with a Master’s in English from Iowa State University. Jennifer lives in very rural Iowa where her column {just a word} appears in the local newspaper, and has been published in Red River Review, Matter Monthly and Four and Twenty.
strung between rows of thirty-foot poles
marking the pastoral summer countryside
like inches on a ruler for miles, countless miles
waiting for EMP or ECT to pulsate through
to unlace the wires keeping my synapses aligned
I feel the impulsive hum of electricity
I’ve been lurking in hallways of bank vaults
listening to the click-click of Italian heels
striking endless tallies for broken regulations
meeting executive eyes with my peasantry
waiting for my turn at the American Dream
Luna moths flutter from my tattered tunic
I hear a welfare child whisper bedtime prayers
I’ve been eating produce from Midwestern land
stricken by the aftertaste of pricey pesticides
melting into my liver, liquefying my lungs
a concrete block in the blurry image of an MRI
waiting for these treatments to take effect
to eradicate this tumor from my chest
I taste Diazinon in the silent mountain spring
I’ve been seeking the American ideal
sifting through masses of animated riffraff
molded from the same polished plastic
laughing at myself, an average consumer
waiting for the chance to burn in the spotlight
to reveal my rare talent, just like everyone else
I smell the reeking musk of decadence and lust
I’ve been tracing the borderline at the tip of Texas
running a metal detector along the Florida shore
checking guard towers for shooters with rifles
running fingers across oil-slick crustaceans
waiting for the gradual sea rise
and the social climate change
I sense a revolution forming at our core
I’ve been drawing lines in the solstice snow
stringing thoughts together like endless stories
divining a dead language, a foreign tongue
creating concern for humanity
waiting for the fiction to crystalize
but the winds drift over as I write
I see the sun ascend and diminish the message again
Author Bio:
Jennifer J. Pruiett-Selby is a teacher and mother of four, with a Master’s in English from Iowa State University. Jennifer lives in very rural Iowa where her column {just a word} appears in the local newspaper, and has been published in Red River Review, Matter Monthly and Four and Twenty.
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