I forget how God
Presses play
When at night
There is nothing
But dimness

From the glow
Of an old screen
Fading
Well before my eyes
Ever sleep,

Reading words
Since shows on repeat
Still remind
How grief
Remains silenced

Left alone again
In that corner
On this couch
Like a character
Mute –

Where sitcoms laugh
At relief
Under moons
While fear
Faces windows,

Watching nighttime
Pass
Though indifferent
If remembering
Channels have changed

As death must speak
After dark
Over bands
Which switch
With our meaning

Like our lives spent here
Being wasted
Letting analog
Share
What we lost,

Between dreams
Such static pursues
Feeling real
Though color
Escapes us

By grayscale hopes
Only praying
Some transmissions
Reach
Very far.

• J. Pigno