cell phone zombies
thumb down the lilaced street
without inhaling

forget-me-nots plead
in out of focus oceans
but the undead memory tics back
to buzz and tone

oh glaz’ed goods,

you have acquired piles
such as an ointment will not cure
and how those qwerty rows
line up your face

you need a soak.

where is your grassy nest
of  little rabbits?

where is the spring in your step?

One response to this post.

  1. I seem to have missed this one: I love it, even long after the lilacs. Great use of “qwerty” – don’t think I’ve ever seen that in a poem before!

    For the first time in years, Dad surprised a baby rabbit while mowing at the lake. We used to find a nest almost every spring. Sadly, he found this one again a few days later, in the driveway, killed by a cat. But I know he was thinking about those grassy nests and how we always tried – and usually failed – to rear the little shivering things when the mother fled.


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