Your Phone

Never empty-handed—you always hold your phone.
What will warm you when you’re feeling cold? Your phone.

A placid face of glass that glows, with precious guts
of copper, silver, lithium, and gold—your phone.

It’s always there to show the way, but when you’re stuck
in traffic do you scowl and curse and scold your phone?

How many of your words each day are typed with thumbs?
What midnight secrets have you only told your phone?

How often do you tap and blindly give consent?
How many corporations have bought and sold your phone?

A new one every other year—refresh, reset—
it keeps you safe from ever feeling old—your phone.

That ever-present, reassuring light—is the first
and final thing each day that you behold your phone?

Sure, Steven, you’re the user—but are you in control?
When was the last time that you controlled your phone?

 

Steven Searcy, autumnskypoetrydaily.com March 22,2024