This is a poem about me...ish... the formatting was not preserved.

A Murmur of Two Star Crossed Lovers Whose Stars Just Crossed

Everything is now a horizontal plane and will be until you come back & bend the
light, turn the camera, and say “& scene.”
An old fashioned picture reel of sepia engrained flashes tweak out nerves
& frizz my hair like a Tesla coil on a blonde, pink-bowed little girl
with the electric pulsing seizure
inducing and vibrant.
I once met a man who loved his petite mal seizures
(calling them warm blankets) and in
love you are my seizure.
& the film keeps flapping now, waiting for the next real,
(thinking about touching a toe in the water on the same ocean at the same time
half a hemisphere away
& would the fish feel our electric connect, could we fry the ocean?
Would all the pearls from all the oysters escape and dance to the top
floating fireflies on the indigo motion?
Could we spark the sun up at the same time over both heads?
Would the stars flicker like a lightning storm in the city
when the touch meets across the continent?
Would they lose their chutzpah & shoot like a mad beautiful meteor shower
worthy of umbrellas and binoculars?
Would the satellites be disturbed
a small indescribable blip in a phone conversation
& maybe someone gets it (feels the ping) & is inspired to murmur I love you.
Maybe the microwaves, alarm clocks, and espresso machines
would all beep at once and an electronic chorus
(like an organ grinder and his monkey)
would create a medley of diminished chords
a cacophony that scares up the dogs and the barking begins
& then as in 101 Dalmatians the neighbors are yelling
& technology is squealing (Like the little girl who first touched the Tesla coil)
& the plates may shift to break china
& a volcanic eruption will create another Pompeii
& there will be more petrified bodies shown to tourists behind glass
(so fingers aren't stolen)
& the town will be molten with fossils recording
& the weather will shift as a cardinal offense
& global warming will be more instant than morning coffee
all because of an electric touch across a continent between a girl who's looking for
the next reel &...)
when it comes it will go forever. As is.

Copyright Kelyn Stump