Listen. Do you hear that?

the retrograde sound,

gears shank against one another

the bruxism’s icky grind-sound:

distant crashes in faraway night dreams:

These are the sounds

all forms of repression make:

when you try to forget all

the bad things that happen:

a sharp click barely heard

through all the sounds of the world.

(Ineradicable. Won’t leave the world of sound.)

Listen, through the birdsong, even

through the trees trying to bud:

an up-flutter of negative potential

of entropy made visible.

Radio Free Retrograde

is not on the air.

[a tableau]

Sunday morning oranges

and cat-stained coverlets:

The young pre-wife nestles

against her hubbie-to-be in three

they suck down a smoky dab or two.

Libertarians, they think they can

avoid the Big Heel somehow

they ain’t worried

Hey honey where

we goin’ for breakfast?

Is that noise the train?

O look at this…!

© 2017 Thomas N. Dennis

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