Static
Always drawn to static.
The more disturbances, the better.
I’m at home with noise--
On any measurable level:
High, low, somewhere in between.
It’s the quiet I despise,
Eerie silence my enemy,
And empty space of all kinds;
That’s where demons dwell.
Just give me the rat-tat-tat,
Day in, day out, night after night.
Really, sleep is for the squeamish--
This I know far too well.
Yes, I’m content when wide awake,
For as long as it takes
To celebrate what sounds abound
In disorder so diffuse,
The din is my reward.
You’ve never known its joy.
Author: Bart Edelman
Photo: TopSphere Media on Unsplash
First published in coalitionworks #8, July, 2024
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