By Andrew R. Duckworth
I suspect one day
I’ll look across the old green space
From the backyard.
The water will be poisoned
From cobalt- old electronics
Tossed every which way.
We want to save nature so much
We will have perverted it
With convenience-
Make it all move faster!
Instantaneous!
And there it is, lying in waste-
In the lake, in the stream,
In the old pond.
We’ll want a drink
But we’ll be too afraid to take it.
We’ll still rely on our old friends-
Corporations-to offer us
A bit of plastic tainted liquid.
They will gladly take our payment
Though I doubt it will be
In the form of paper or coin-
Something much quicker.
We will have sawed off
Enough arms and legs
That we barely move,
Afraid to- too many dangers involved.
I’ll look at the old pond-
The one that was once
Surrounded by greenery.
I’ll see convenience there
Taking the water’s place
And I’ll curse the day
I ever bought a smartphone.
Poetry and Essays of Andrew Ryan Duckworth 