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?