the poems can just
disappear so
quickly
and easily.
a gesture of the hand,
click, backspace, gone
the cursor blinking
daring you to undo
but you don’t press
control and ‘z’ simultaneously
you just accept that
the thought is gone
forever and you
didn’t care for it
anyway and if it
had a future
somewhere else
in some other form
it’s too late
and you hope
the good parts
will somehow
float back to you
anyway
and you won’t
erase.
narinda heng 