My body is a plastic radio tuned to static. It’s hidden in the leaves. Children try to find my cord but I’m powered by batteries tuned to static. My body is a well. My body is buried under a pile of books I’ve read but can’t recall. My body is a salmon. It’s a lonely little salmon. Children don’t usually eat salmon. Sky tuned to static. Bristling leaves. The earth’s cord has been cut. Someone has lost their cut of cloth. My body is a census. My body hides the world. Salmon tuned to static. Fly-bys, children staring at the sky. My body’s radio. The static’s ratio. Leaves try to run but they cannot hide the death of autumn. Summer radios, tuned to static stations. My body runs along the green belts. My body seeks a radio, seeks its batteries. A battery powered by static, by the legs of children riding bicycles. Your funny inventions. My body is made of plastic. It’s no longer biodegradable. My body is a book. Opened at a page marked “Salmon”. Salmon try to run in summer. Summers powered by static leaves. Children in the sky, dancing to the radio. Impossible radio dreams. Sky full of salmon-coloured radios. My body wants to glow. My body is a radio.
My Body Is A Radio
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