A poem by JACQUELINE HERMAN
It has no soul, no spirit, yet a voice.
Its use is obsessive, or is it choice?
This mysterious gem of invention
/ beckons interception.
Grabbing for it in the night,
/ never allowing it out of sight.
Radioactive particles emitted from its light,
/ mankind is now working to fight
/ for the rights of the cell phone,
/ an entity separate from thee.
Or for its continued slave-dom,
/ What will it be?
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