Without Form and Void
The first known use of “effigy”
May have been 1539,
Though I suspect effigies are
As old as mankind.
The world itself is an
Effigy of sorts,
Brought from a void
Into that which has form.
Now, we enshroud her in a
Type of twenty-first century
Gold leaf –
Namely,
Preprogrammed microchips and
Corresponding smart-gadgets,
Systematically attached to
Every facet
Of a creation
Sorted and curated
By all-too-important AI
Algorithms – made
To manage the
Unmanageable. That is,
A universe which thrived for
Billions of years
Without us – the effigies
who proclaim ourselves creators.
Revelations
Let’s wander until we find the moon
lingering in the morning fog
Cliché. But perhaps if we go there
we’ll finally find out we’re exactly who
we were always accused of being.
It will be simultaneously disappointing
and
revelatory.
Then we can continue our stories.
We’re all growing towards a moment.
Its largesse can be intimidating.
Maybe by admitting
the moon lingering in the morning fog
can never truly be reduced to cliché –
we’ll be okay.
Where I Go
Hands dip
In scalding dishwater, scrub
Remaining crumbs from
Plates and cups
On and in which we broke bread together,
Swirled crusts in salt and oil,
Confessing our day’s frustrations
All the while.
Dark creeps across the neighbors’ lawns, as
It does this time of day, and around the corner
Of the house, whilst my
Soapy water becomes murkier,
Matching dusk’s descent upon the world. But glasses
And silver sparkle clean.
For now, that’s all I need.