portion of the artwork for Chris Garson's poetry

Pulse
Chris Garson

Watching it all from the mouth of the couch as evening bleeds to the cushions and burns to the filter. Drizzle on windows. Switch and flicker of low-grade TV light. In my hand the remote. Buttons all gummed. Waiting for the weather to change.


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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 42 | Fall 2013