Apocalypse With Victrola
Someday we will both be honest
but for now the Victrola in your cellar
will have to do. We crank the winding
key. You don’t own any records, no 45s,
so the green felt must spin into green
felt. We lift its iron needle arm, judge
its barbaric weight. We say this only
to you, and you listen. In time, all things
must become dull. We drop the needle
to the felt, and static electricity lights
up the cellar for a blue moment. Yes,
every honest thing will dull in time.
by Brian Clifton
Brian Clifton lives in Kansas City Missouri. He is the co-editor of Bear Review. His work can be found in The Denver Quarterly, The Pinch, burntdistrict, The Laurel Review, and other magazines.
Work for Monthly Verse is selected through our editorial process. New poems are selected from authors that submitted work for the last issue. Read more authors by subscribing to Fjords.