Life in a Machine
I hold collected contacts
over the years, messages
I can't stand to see line up
like a long list of responsibilities.
I live in a purse hung by the apartment door
so I'm not forgotten, or I'm plugged into
the wall for juice, always needing more
energy as those visible bars disappear. I hold
apps you'll never use with notes you'll forgot,
pictures that could disappear sooner than
you think. I'm an unspoken language speaking
for the world, a kind of witness or soothsayer
or maybe just someone glad she can hear
you, and you can hear her back. I'm worth
that last minute photo taken
before someone leaves town or disappears
from your life. The good news:
you need me. A blessing and a curse.
1. "A Grandmother Listens"
forthcoming in Beautiful Things/River Teeth
on Labor Day 2018
2. essay in Waxwing Magazine, spring 2018, "Distinguished Member of the Regiment"
3. essay in Solstice Literary Magazine, summer 2018, "Come Home in Glory"
4. poem in Stone Canoe, spring 2018. "Geometry Class"
5. Essay "Saudade" forthcoming in Post Road, 2018