an ode to decommissioned pylons (you divine messengers)

[timetobuttonmash]

i feel bad for abandoned things in fields sometimes

oh my rural angels, with your mess of splintered wood monopolar steel
solitary in their graves.

pray tell, would you meet me here?
let’s bridge the gap between you and i.
i’d hold your hand, through the ghostly charge,
in unicode. ISO/IEC 8859-1. ASCII.
i’ve a loveletter to send
through your dead arms.

we mourn your broken wings,
we thank you for your service.