Static

A poem about turntables.

The sound of silence, static dust

coating the twirling record.

I've come to be comforted

By the sound of silence

I move the arm before

the record is over and

I listen to side B again.

The sound of silence,

Low fi heaven,

My seven inches.

Author's Note

This is pretty new. Be honest with reviews. I like it enough for myself, but I've been writing long enough to take criticism and feedback on new pieces.