her black radio fell

and there was no longer
sound.  the radio was no
longer a
radio.

3 butternut squashes
sat for seasons on our
counter; we didn't
plant them yet they
grew in our garden.  we didn't
eat them and they knew they
were no longer edible
fruit.

so i banged the
silent radio upon
one tumorlike squash
and i began to hear static

and then beats:

the dead squash was not
wasted.

i threw them away today.  we
see the

space.  she

hears the
radio.