Katrina Barlow
Static Air Poem

outside, the air crackles statically,
skittering over the porch, and
knocking against the legs
of a white wicker chair and the rusty frame
of a desk and a man
who thinks in time to the
clacking of his typewriter
and the crooning of the woman's voice within,
that catches and tears on the screen door
as it crackles from the record player within:
"won't you please come on in
      because I love you—
                      because I love you—
                                    —I love you—
                                                because I love—"
                                                              it skips.