by Joanna Fuhrman

Joanna Fuhrman

Ah drone butterflies
when you think of them
dropping polished
“like” buttons
in hologram stork mouths
you know how wonderful
the 21st century
can be
and the gilded teeth marks
on the monitors
invisible and historic buzzes
clothed in data
slightly jelloy
like a Mike Kelley

there is the mystery of loss
somewhere inside
our fingers pause
we invented this era
with our flying
which is blue and pillowy

we owe a debt to
our wires and to Mark Zuckerberg
for playing scrabble
in our lungs
before we were born

we don’t do much ourselves,
but click and chew
write emails
to our kinder
who are waiting
for the retweets to arrive
and who else cries
it is our habit
to obscure

how are you living
in broken December
I am angry like a cupcake
in an éclair factory

How dare you
you were
made in the shape
of our demographic
I was not
I was made between
the wings of a drone canary
“with an surgical strike carved
from nostalgia”
except for fear (just listen)
I am in love with this century
for being so complicated
but still I have to weep

Last updated November 24, 2022