Poem: Sarah Nichols

Interlude for Player Piano, 1
After Westworld

I give them these relics of the future:

music, battered punch cards, instrumentals that
unspool

on repeat, a song just out of memory’s grasp. It
could be from

twenty years ago, or the tomorrow that is
twenty years from whatever now is.

Every loop a melody,
a premature elegy or one

that arrives on time, greeting you with all
of the deaths that you’ve died

before.

Sarah Nichols lives and writes in Connecticut. She is the author of eight chapbooks, including She May Be a Saint  (Porkbelly Press, 2019) and Dreamland for Keeps (Porkbelly, 2018.) Her poems can also be found in Drunk Monkeys, Rogue Agent, and the Twin Peaks poetry anthology, These Poems are Not What They Seem, (Apep Publications, 2020.)

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