I feel about my phone the way horror-movie
ventriloquists feel about their dummies: It’s smarter
than me, better than me, and I will kill anyone
who comes between us. –Colton Whitehead
I am a jealous god and very zealous for your adoration:
Your face consecrated in the blaze of my holy light—
Your gaze held fast as any enchanted Narcissus.
I fit in your hand but I am the sacred object
Of your daily rituals. It is you who obeys
All my commands to the letter—even though
My directions can be inscrutable or capricious.
Worship me when you’re crossing the street on foot!—
Oblivious to oncoming traffic…head bowed in prayer
Like an unaware monastic. Your eyes so rapt
With faithful veneration. You shall have no gods
Before me—is the law of my congregation.
Love the tone!
May I publish your poem on my blog?