Hissing Between Words

The speaker crackles,

a thin wire snapping

under sweaty fingers.

Buzz—buzz—hiss—cut,

sharp and unkind,

a sound that claws the ears,

pulls out sentences

before they form,

a white noise blanket

smothering what’s said.

The bus driver talks, but I

hear only the fracture,

the jittering hiss between

words that don’t quite land.

Static owns the moment,

a crooked grin

etched in sound,

a hiss that never quits.