Acts 2:6

Static noise on the old TV screen in the dark.


She found her faith in static broadcast stations,
The grainiest and blurriest were best;
Headphones around her neck while I caressed
Her hair, she listened for her revelations
and heard blurred prophesies and sobbed elations
and spun her loose translations of the rest,
While I sat quiet, wishing she’d confessed
her only gift was her imagination:
She laughed and laughed and turned the volume higher.
She laughed like crumpled foil, said she was fine.
She spun the dial waiting for a sign.
Announcer, faithful callers on the line,
Prove her a prophet, granting her desire,
Or prove my friend a liar and grant mine.

E. M. Komisar, previously unpublished, is studying in the BFA in Creative Writing program at Goddard College, focusing on fiction and verse poetry. Komisar’s first experience studying writing formally came from the Iowa Young Writers’ Workshop.

First published in Measure Review