I pause at last~
a rare celestial event,
like a comet or a clean inbox.
My files stare back,
feral little gremlins
named things like finalFINAL2
and use_this_one_maybe.
I take a breath.
The universe holds still.
Even my husband is impressed.
Then~
a miracle:
I drag one folder
into another folder
and nothing explodes.
Suddenly I’m unstoppable.
A digital filing phoenix.
A desktop deity.
A sorter of chaos.
And all it took
was pausing long enough
to remember
I’m actually in charge
of this digital zoo.
Some day, when this yellow sun is dying in
a crimson sky and a tangle of phosphorescent,
all-consuming vegetation covers up the earth's
shame and ruin, the robots will keep some poets
in concrete cages, just in case they need a new
idea.
And then the robots will drag one of the weak,
timid creatures out into the spotlight and watch
it trying to stay alive in the depleted air for just
one more precious minute of what the poet calls
'consciousness'.
And then, when the life-force bursts like a beautiful
bubble out of the poet's open mouth and it bows its
head in death, grinning like a fool, the entire audience
will stand up and applaud like a lot of automatons on
holiday.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.