The Night Whisperer

Radio tower

In the night of blackness, above the plain,

red flashing lights pinging the red beneath my eyelids.

Radio waves pulsing like my heart beating in REM sleep.

Reflecting, refracting, scattering,

I hear his voice, murmuring.


“Don’t fall…”


He wears his cloak of invisibility, belted

to his monopole touching sky 225 high.

He is the god of airwaves, cell towers and 2 way radios.

He oscillates westward through electromagnetic fields.

like mosquitos, rising on humidity.


Memories surround the interface,

waves of  sounds, creaking springs,

holding the marbled bedsheets in a death grip,

38 years of absorption,

until the morning we fail to wake.

Letting go,

plowing  the wheatfield at 177 miles per hour.


Terminal velocity of the heart.


By Barbara A Meier


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