The News
“I get all the news I need on the weather report”- Simon and Garfunkel
The boxes blink back at us
from the wall where we hung them up
and flattened them to create clearance
for the hard-hitting stories to fall
when they drop, breaking
at 5 o’clock on the living room floor, removed
their antennas to prevent interference
from the dread rising up after being released
from cases cracked wide open —
it screws with the signal
Our technology evolves to intercept interruption
The victim’s DNA was found at the scene
Like the insides running from an egg,
now uncontained, the information leaks
and rolls towards our feet, and we dip our toes
to flirt with the feeling of being more
than an observer, to partly submerge
ourselves into identification with the vulnerable —
to be prey means to be alive
Flooded with forensics, we search
the cold hard facts and replay the report,
searching for evidence to prove
that we’re too human to handle this
We wonder why it doesn’t hurt more
