you can wait another three minutes for this geologic shift to do its thing but then lunch break will be over and it'll be back to the same ridiculous desk work you're not quite sure how to do, but a paycheck keeps appearing in your bank account every week, so you figure you do it well enough. Was that a shift, a stream of pebbles under your boots, or was it an errant scorpion tired of the wind? You look down, but can't tell either way.
Robert Beveridge (he/him) makes noise (xterminal.bandcamp.com) and writes poetry in Akron, OH. Recent/upcoming appearances in Page and Spine, The Pointed Circle, and Failed Haiku, among others. Instagram: @ebolaisthesavior