DM from God
DM from God
Oh you, with the fidgety thumbs! You with eyes that refuse to blink, like a cursor frozen on a backlit screen! Put down your phone. Silence its pinging. Let your inbox fill— I work in infinities. Reboot your body with a breath. Close your eyes, and find your inner settings. Feel my notifications adjust to ON. I am not mad at you for all that scrolling. Don’t waste your breath on shame. Just notice how those busy thumbs plug up the cracks within your day. Blink hard, sweetheart. The cracks are where you’ll find me.
Photo by Becca Tapert on Unsplash
The Prompt
In our 3 months together here on 100 Poems, I’ve read dozens and dozens of gorgeous poems from community members. Poems about birds, trees, rivers, parenting, loss, marriage, illness, identity, books, songs, pets, politicians, and even grilled cheese sandwiches. I don’t remember (am I forgetting?) reading any poems about cell phones, though, which is interesting since most of us probably spend rather a lot of time staring down at those little suckers.
So today’s prompt is your cell phone. Hold your phone in your hand for a moment and notice what that feels like. Spend some time recalling your history together. Has your phone ever come to your rescue in an emergency or spared you a horrible predicament? Has your phone ever been the source of a horrible predicament? What do you love about the role your cell phone plays in your life? What don’t you love? Does your relationship with your phone remind you of any other relationships in your life? If you had to go a day or a week or a month without it, how would your life be different?
I can hardly wait to read your poems right here on the screen of my own iPhone. Surely God (see poem above) won’t begrudge me that!
Backstory. My mother was in a bad car accident six months ago today. After a broken arm that did not heal, surgery, and recovery we finally got her a new vehicle last week and today was the first time she has driven. I was grateful for cell phones on that night.
My phone, though silenced, vibrates
An unfamiliar number on the screen
Me knowing the second I pick it up
Something is very wrong.
“Your mother has been in an accident”
Says a calm voice.
“She’s conscious” the only information given
Help is on the way.
Driving the dark rural roads
Ten miles never felt so long.
Calling your number even though you could not answer
Hoping to hear your voice.
Red and blue lights strobe up ahead
Running across the busy highway as traffic slows.
“I’m here” I say
Grateful my number was in your phone.
Finding God in the cracks. Yes!!! I love the idea of rebooting one's body with breath. such a great metaphor. Thanks for your fun poem and equally as fun prompt, which led to this silliness:
O, how I love you
when I don’t hate you.
I yearn for you when we’re apart,
I revile you when we’re together.
We’re an attachment disorder disaster, baby –
you anxious, me avoidant –
or backwards have I do that?
When you’re out of reach or
out of range
I ache with longing for you.
But when you clamor for me,
making showy plays for my attention,
I burn red-hot with resentment.
Dark fantasies descend, visions of you
in untimely, untidy meetings with
toilets or truck tires.
But
the truth is,
thoughts of losing you
or of your sudden death
turn me pasty
and you prone to slipping
fast from my clammy clasp. You -
you’ve put a spell on me,
Persephone,
aka
iPhone SE.