Zachary Bos
The song of Cicadetta montana
is a static hiss, with irregular
lulls, and has not been heard in Great Britain
for twenty years. Thus conservationists
have sent out drones across the pastures, heath
and woods of the New Forest, to listen
and record what they hear. In the next phase
they will play back those recordings, to lure
the lonely into the open: his son
his sea, his kin, success is sin, his sin.
How many drones will glitch, abandoning
their mission? Running down their batteries
cleaving to the bark of ancient maples,
not knowing why they sing his sin, his sin.