Jennifer Kite-Powell
1 min readDec 5, 2023
Photo by Michael Dziedzic on Unsplash

There is static in my brain.

I can’t control it.

The frequency knob is broken.

I keep mashing a collection of dingy, formerly white plastic buttons to find the right frequency.

But the buttons stick.
The same static plays.

I push one too hard and it pops back out like a leggo my eggo commercial.
It stays on the same static station.

I try two fingers to mash it down.
But it sticks to the formerly white, now scalded milk-colored button next to it.

My brain heaves.
The sentient machine inside me has taken over.
It calibrates itself to another station of static with a faint baseline and the clattering of broken glass.

Am I the broken glass?

I’m screaming to myself from inside the machine to find my frequency.

But the static has taken over.

I know people want me to change my station.
I see it in their eyes.
I feel their frequency, but it bores me.

My feathers are fully ruffled.
I can’t smooth my mane.
My mind is not slipping sideways.

This static is gnawing my soul down to a sliver.
But then I think I can use my new slivery soul to jab that dingy white button.



Jennifer Kite-Powell

Speculative poet, flash fiction writer, author, podcaster & Forbes senior contributor. Read my work here, on substack or at