Martha Silano
From the Car Stereo I Hear Weather and Traffic Reports
all across this great land. What is it about knowing FDR Drive
is experiencing delays, that the low tonight in Los Angeles
will be 54, scattered clouds and 61 by Sunday? The incongruity
of knowing this, the newness of 24-hour access, of global positioning
systems, of Siri’s voice, my daughter in the backseat messing with “her”:
Siri, tell me the one about the past, present, and future walking into
a bar. That she is talking to a hand-held computer the size of a Wasa
cracker, asking her to recite a tongue twister, that I’m supposed
to assimilate this, along with a 60% chance of thunderstorms in Houston.
For thousands of years we knew as much or a little more than the summer
rains, then the thumb snails and beetles. Now we know there’s construction
on Flower Street, left turns restricted. And yet, despite all this access,
this knowing so much, we all have these moments that suck.
Interconnectivity cannot take away our desiccated desire, our unmade beds,
our incessant anxiety. Knowing Longshore and Minor Roads are closed
won’t help us get it up, keep our wives out of the hospital or morgue,
won’t refill our glass with port, won’t answer the question Was God
a poacher, and if so, what did he poach? We can set an alarm
on a fancy phone, remind ourselves we’re playing tennis at 9 am
with Frankie & Jo, but still there’s the issue of the scorching heat,
the 3 am robocall from the police, of knowing our lives will cease.
is experiencing delays, that the low tonight in Los Angeles
will be 54, scattered clouds and 61 by Sunday? The incongruity
of knowing this, the newness of 24-hour access, of global positioning
systems, of Siri’s voice, my daughter in the backseat messing with “her”:
Siri, tell me the one about the past, present, and future walking into
a bar. That she is talking to a hand-held computer the size of a Wasa
cracker, asking her to recite a tongue twister, that I’m supposed
to assimilate this, along with a 60% chance of thunderstorms in Houston.
For thousands of years we knew as much or a little more than the summer
rains, then the thumb snails and beetles. Now we know there’s construction
on Flower Street, left turns restricted. And yet, despite all this access,
this knowing so much, we all have these moments that suck.
Interconnectivity cannot take away our desiccated desire, our unmade beds,
our incessant anxiety. Knowing Longshore and Minor Roads are closed
won’t help us get it up, keep our wives out of the hospital or morgue,
won’t refill our glass with port, won’t answer the question Was God
a poacher, and if so, what did he poach? We can set an alarm
on a fancy phone, remind ourselves we’re playing tennis at 9 am
with Frankie & Jo, but still there’s the issue of the scorching heat,
the 3 am robocall from the police, of knowing our lives will cease.
Biography
Martha Silano (she/her/hers) is the author of five books of poetry, including Gravity Assist, Reckless Lovely, and The Little Office of the Immaculate Conception, all from Saturnalia Books. She is also co-author of The Daily Poet: Day-By-Day Prompts for your Writing Practice. Martha’s poems have appeared in Poetry, American Poetry Review, AGNI, and Paris Review, among others. She teaches at Bellevue College, near her home in Seattle, WA. Her website can be found at marthasilano.net.
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