Folklore says
the witching hour
arrives between
midnight and four,
but I beg to differ
I will tell you
with no uncertainty
that the devil appears
sometime between
7 and 9
as regular as the sun
in a wild cacophony
of sounds and alerts
hoof beats and
tire beats
engines roaring
bass thumping
Pavlovian dings
for here! no there!
over there!
and here!
Cursed notifications
and incoming calls
and speech bubbles
that
pop! pop! pop!
bang! bang! bang!
Headlines
and Bylines
and Subject Lines
It’s mischief
and madness
and mechanisms
seeping through
the heavens of morning
that only
the most wicked
could fashion
Poem ©2024, Jen Payne. IMAGE: Wikicommons. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift.
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