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What I Feel When My Fingers Hover Over the Keys

By 

Devon Balwit

I.

Coward?

Perhaps, but conflict

clenches me, fear torqueing in, dread

at the what next.  I’d like to believe that were

a threat present, I would stand firm, fight back, but bravery

must be practiced, or one just cowers within, awaiting the hard knock.

 

II. 

Shit storms

gust across pixels.

Some lean in, cutting through wind. I

take shelter, waiting for the howling to die

down.  Then, cautiously, peering past the shutters, I assess

risk before venturing out, furtive as a rabbit among raptors.

 

III. 

Labels

adhere, try peeling

yours off.  It won’t be that easy.

We jam each other in boxes, slam down lids,

pretend not to hear the battering from within.  Strange that,

aware, we still rush to judge, slapping our sticky frog tongues on bright wings.

 

IV.

Scapegoat.

Are you willing to

carry everyone’s filth beyond

the city gates?  The whole community will

thank you for it, but you will be exiled, a pariah.

Your atonement won’t last.  Too soon, another victim will be required.

 

V.

Dark screen,

power off, yet still

we feel it lurking, the menace

of the world ready to reach through and grab us.

How long can we withstand the pull, the one thing that always

leads to a hundred more, scrolling become a tic, even in deep sleep?

Quiz question:

What is the narrator's relationship to the online world?

Fear

Fear

Repulsion

Repulsion

Obsession

Obsession

All of the above

All of the above

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Issue 13

published 

March 7, 2017

What I Feel When My Fingers Hover Over the Keys was written by Devon Balwit, who is a writer and teacher from Portland, OR, USA. She has two chapbooks forthcoming in 2017--how the blessed travel from Maverick Duck Press and Forms Most Marvelous from dancing girl press. Her recent work has found many homes, among them: The Journal of Applied Poetics, Five 2 One, Peacock Journal, The Cincinnati Review, Red Paint Hill, Timberline Review, and more.

i dont feel like fininishing this website right now and i am sorry

I just smile and nod

and say "I guess that's better

than factory farmed".

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Issue 13

This writing was originally published in Opium Magazine, and is not listed in the Lit.cat archives.
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