What other lovers will I lose to metallic progress in this eclipsing year?
Photographs on film and hand written letters
Huddle in the library with other endangered animals
like phone books and encyclopedias
turning pale in fluorescent lights, bloated with air conditioning, smelling of homeless people’s coats and Reagan era carpets
What other lovers will I lose?
And why do I care if I lose them? Aren’t they inferior
Time consuming, brittle and moth ridden?
Susceptible to wind, rain, the piling of years?
Or are the good lovers the ones that spoil without care,
milk left out
a flower bending to cracked soil.
Why should I love these new gleaming faces
swaying unsteadily atop of the corpses of their predecessors
with electrical veins and motherboard minds
that tap tap tap on my head
Trying to get in.
Why should I love them? They have no smell
I cannot love something that has no smell
I can love things made from hides, timber, the bellies of mountains,
The blood of vines
not dead things extracted from dead things
to make poison toys for dying people