Andrew Spiess

Only the glow
left and the shadows
of white coils
tentacles of plastic
now sixteen
in a cast
of light

An ellipsis, the screen
is a backlit semblance
of a silhouette

A mixture of pops and ticks
a hissing behind a shadow
close to a breeze

Down hallways
the smell of water:
a chorus of whales
in the late dark
beyond the glow

Only mistakes stain for years
and shape the earth

Only light through a hole
the more holes
the more light

Only twitches of synthetics
and synapses
and the glow