Metallic traces, yesterday's
steel blues. Metallic traces,
how her mouth tasted--well, it
tasted real. Traces of mercury
in rivers, iron from sloughing
ships at sea's bottom. Everything
that made sense doesn't make
sense anymore. What was all
that foundry forging for?
Metallic traces, old radio
antennas still seizing sounds
from air and passing them
along though no one's hearing
because no one's listening.
hans ostrom 2020
