Obselesce
By Chris Junginger
Who sings the weary pixels to their sleep?
Who tucks in the sad hardwire at night?
And to dream of unreal electric sheep,
To wake up to the bright fluorescent light?
Does anyone mourn the noble cassette?
Fragile and magnetic heaving out breath?
Who would cry, would anyone be upset?
The night that the VHS met her death?
Who holds the data waves soft and pliant,
Will anyone think of the things unseen
Who will know them, faithful and reliant
How does one know how to keep what has been?
It is first nature that you obsolesce
But only second to hate that you do.
The Trinity Review 