i like to hold on
to what is ancient
both ephemeral
and concrete
i’ve been called
sentimental
i’ve been called
a romantic
i’ve been called
out as a pretender
resisting
the current age
my birth
human destiny
it is not so
strange though
that i crane my neck
backward and reach
out for what feels
like something i can
hold onto, things
i have felt,
things that have
moving parts which
click and turn and
require a little
more physical effort
i’ve been slow to
embrace this
glass-stroking age
but some things
are inevitable
some things
all things
we’ll all eventually
have to let go.
