E-Boxes

Jeanne’s Watercolor Box

Surface Watercolor Pattern

Used to be
I had one
in-box
on the
dining room table.

It was
housed
between
the salt
and figs,
pansies
and african violets.

Now
some fifteen
in-boxes
beep
blink
and
boss me
at home
and abroad.

While I
discern
“right of way”
in car
or crosswalk.

Their icons blink
and jostle
for space
on tiny screens…
thumbnail size.

They
claim to
reach the clouds.
While,
really,
need to be plugged
into a wall
each night,
lest screens
go dark…
incognito.

They sing
and gyrate
and pull
my pockets down
’til dress
comes off
shoulder
and drags its hem
in dust.

Some won’t work
unless my ears
are helmeted
and I look
astronaut,
antenna swinging
in the air.

Most of all,
these in-boxes
take me out of balance.
They act so
all-important
as to knock me
Off my feet,
scatterbrained,
heart bleeding!

I’m turning
inside out!
Taking fifteen
in-boxes
in, to turn
to one.
I’ll send
them out
together
in a song
of grace.

A song of praise.
Out to you.
Hear the music!
Surround sound.
Take calm.
Be at ease!