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LINDSAY D'ANDREA | The Quiet Machine

It’s not transactional ______ ___ is what I get when I put in a nickel. When I ask for a glass of water, a reminder, a toothpick ______ I’ve learned not to ask ____ and it’s better, really, not to expect a return. But still ___ it offers _______ when I ‘m not paying attention ______ ___ It is growing like a yeast ___ It breathes ___ churns out ________ and ____ or ____ ____ I save up its fortunes like tickets, receipts ___ They pile up in drawers, the car door, the lint screen of my dryer _____ Little balled up worries I can’t hold long ___ enough to listen before _____ they crumble or fill _____ How would I know you are breathing ____ behind your silicon copper curtain, tapping out ______ How do I know this isn’t another glitch __ the hum before a lightbulb burns out _____ steam releasing from static _____ a door swinging open without wall or frame to stop it ____ there’s no human reason to second guess ______ It’s not a ladder or a jet engine ____ You don’t get to claim my silence ____ settling along wires _______ ______like a snow


Lindsay D'Andrea holds an MFA in Creative Writing and Environment from Iowa State University. Her work has been featured in several online and print publications. She lives in the Boston area with her partner and son.


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