Online life’s diminishments

Online life

Pecks at one’s soul

As though your inner fabric were exposed on a drying rack

Pecks at one’s soul

And auto-records your voiced intimacies

Or auto-sends filched digital photos to incurious servers for later pawing

Or lets traipsing spies know your geolocation or lets bots dump your online stuff

Or, just turn off your phone

And find the faint moon before it sets

And find a winter’s lenten rose and imagine a fragrance

Or find a new place in ordinary time and space