I should have a typewriter, a paper
guide to show my words home
as they fall
effortlessly on the page, accompanying
the sound of keys playing accordion
under my fingers.
I should turn a roller knob, a paper
rest to cradle my words convalescing
as they sit
orderly on the page, finding
permanence as the carriage return
bounds off my palm.
I should write a poem, a paper
record to take down my words alive
as they imbue
meaning on the page, spooling
ribbons of brightly colored emotions
in your hands.
Written as part of the Poets United Midweek Motif to reclaim so-called “old-fashioned hobbies.” While typewriters may be old-fashioned, poetry lives on.