Mike Nichols
Cold War
Before Putin hacked our grid we’d watch
movies endlessly with our cheap electricity.
Stories kept us numb. Our lifeless eyes
displayed less intelligence than the animals
whose flesh we’d masticate against the flickering
blue light. There once was a telekinetic kid named
Sid, and in the movie time travel existed. Unlike the kid,
my anger contains no power. But if I beg, might He
at least send His thoughts and prayers.
Mike L. Nichols is a graduate of Idaho State University and a recipient of the Ford Swetnam Poetry Prize. He lives and writes in Eastern Idaho. Look for his poetry in Rogue Agent, Scryptic Magazine, Ink&Nebula, Plainsongs Magazine, and elsewhere. Find more at mikenicholsauthor.com
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