No explanation was offered for the lack of ring tones
and pre-recorded voices. The few who woke of their own accord

curled quietly out of bed, not disturbing their
partners. They read on the sofa

or sat comfortably watching the trees.
The city center empty of cars.

One young child walked a mile to a park and back
along the yellow lines. He was unharmed

and no one who saw him managed to call 
the police. His mother, waking

hours later, found him lying on the living
room floor, drawing trees in outlandish colors.


Caitlin Elizabeth Thomson

Jeremy MirandaLibrary with Grey Sea (oil on canvas)


Poet's Commentary:   

Most of my poems are set in a world that looks like ours at first glance, but it contains unsettling differences. It could be ours, but you know it's not, because houses self-destruct and people vanish. When I first saw Jeremy Miranda's work, I felt like he was painting the world that I was writing about.