Internether Poem by Martin O'Neill
Internether
'A man who lives, not by what he loves, but by what he hates, is a sick man.' Archibald MacLeish.
In a room, alone
Blue screen flickers
Across a frown
A muttered imprecation
A spell of derision
Sent across the ether
Sealed with a tic
The shadows lengthen outside
While the darkness inside
Multiplies
Congeals on the screen
And grows black wings.
'Send.'
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8/27/2026 11:44:21 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
Nice one, Martin! Incisive and evocative. And thanks for you kind words re the literacy holocaust.