Incantation

iPhone rock

drawn on my iTouch

 

O Clock! Check! Key! Phone! Coin!

Touched every day, you know:
the clean fingertips,
the tapping of round nails,
the intimate space between the fingers,
the grip of the thumb; and
the prophecies of the palm,
his future in branching lines
pressed on your bland faces!
You absorb his heat.

Transform me:
what small, machine-mothered artifact
may I be?

Joanna Wiebe

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