By John Lawrence Darretta - Cape Cod, Massachusetts, USA - 2 December 2016


Seldom round and soundlessly soft

often square and hissingly hard

with poking angles --


It cannot snake across soft sand

or curve tendrils like clematis

around a tree.


There is nothing liquid about it

not free flowing or full foaming

over smooth stone.


It cannot set and rise, slow arc across the sky

to glisten and expand in galactic circles

beyond the milky way.


Can it remember a warm fire on wintry days

the thick scent of fir and the cat curled in a "c"

purring near the hearth?


Does it think about its crashes, worry about collapse

turn around to see its lonely image

then feel neurotic cracks?


Whirring, whirring, whirring, broken toy circuitry

clicking and clacking down, falling flat and tinny

like a metallic clown --


What will come to save it?