The Sunday Poem: If you…
If you…
โฆPush through the keys on a piano, whatโs on the other side?
Not wires and hammers; not wood, but desires.
An echoing chamber of fires and lovers and lies.
โฆBite through the skin of an orange, whatโs on the other side?
Not citrus but summer, both light and burnt umber,
A country far distant all tart and remembered and bright.
โฆLook through the slits of an outlet, whatโs on the other side?
Not six thousand currents pulsing reverberant,
But magic brought low, in harness instead of in sky.
โฆStretch through the screens all around you, whatโs on the other side?
We reach for each other through bytes and through phosphor,
Past Borgesโ big library, at play in the forms we provide.
We never think shells are the essence; we crack without asking why.
