Things Have Stopped Falling Apart
The typewriter is too rickety, but
the Apple machine in your ivory
hands, sleek and futuristic, drafts
unpacking like cascades on rocks.
I am a little old-fashioned
hunt-and-peck, line feed, shift,
inking. Thoughts of spending
one stanza on your eyes left a
a spot in the middle of the screen
love needs systems of their own
not apps, menace of files, fear of
sending texts to the wrong person,
filters and cropping, a deep pit
in the neck, the forced erotic, an ogle.
Even then the distance is so real,
induced simulation of your smiles
and fewer live moments we met,
conversation is the curse of the cursor.
Libraries are haunting places, meet
me there when age has exhausted you,
me still browsing your soul, clicking.
by Rizwan Akhtar
Enjoying the content on 3QD? Help keep us going by donating now.