by Sean Cho A.


There isn’t anything more absurd than silence.
When you press a button you expect action.

So if after you press the button and the button’s
action is to drop a grey humming bird who speaks
perfect Latin onto your shoulder, you should forget

I’m glad we got that cleared up.

Just to make things more confusing
there are two buttons. Both red (of course),
and come on, we both know you want to press
one (or both) why are we wasting time:

a single Nimbostratus cloud weighing
as much as ten thousand semi trucks
floats above your neck, yet, no one is fearful.

Every time a robin crashes into your neighbor’s
glass french doors it’s a conversation piece.
Don’t you want talk about something other
than the weather?

Even in winter the elms breathe out
exactly what we need as if they
have come to expect our poison.


Sean Cho A. is the author of American Home (Autumn House 2021) winner of the Autumn House Publishing chapbook contest. His work can be future found or ignored in Copper Nickel, Pleiades, The Penn Review, The Massachusetts Review, Nashville Review, among others. He is currently an MFA candidate at the University of California Irvine and the Associate Editor of THRUSH Poetry Journal. Find him @phlat_soda

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