Synthesizer Ode

A sine wave entered my dreams as a sliver of chrome—pricked then
             clotted over before it could leak across my pillow.

In this dream I wear
             the tender stab—collapse into warbles of goldenrod silhouetted against

the shellacked morning floor.

In the cross section of this room
             there are no modern times. Instead

perfume—a gaggle of habits swinging across

the scene like stringy bells of molasses.
               Palimpsestic—flush over a sound machine

the milk moon bloats with indiscretion.

A body still sings like a teakettle—boiling & tossed
             off the edge of a cliff

A body of queer crashes through air
             in bouquets—electric billows

eat the empty out the room.

I dig out the hollows of sound
             skittering across it’s DNA, which is also mine,

tumor prone breasts & chest hair, grey hair,
               mess of wire, colored plug-ins, vasculature.

I stand still—smear,
              ricochet against the hollow interior of this grand brass skeleton.

I untangle silence from my fingers and swallow it
             whole—the mangled echo nestles into my skull.

Bach & Moog Synthesizer. Shadows & wind chimes.
            The way a name envenoms your tongue

as it becomes just the same
                                          but brand new.

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Jacob R. Benavides is a poet from Corpus Christi, TX who is currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at Oklahoma State University. Their work appears or is forthcoming in Mississippi Review, BULLSHIT LIT and Lunch Ticket among others. They were also a finalist for the 2024 Mississippi Review Poetry Prize.

Instagram: @jabejohnson