Here’s another poem I published in the literary magazine of Rowan University back in the 90’s. It will probably seem quaint to those who have grown up in the era of remote controls and flat screen TVs, but anyone who knows me will not be surprised that my poetry catalog includes an ode to a television. 😉
An aging television rests
on a giant, black footlocker
under the low, slanted ceiling
of a small stuffy attic.
I turn on the television,
receiving a shock
when my hand touches
the metal power knob.
An electric tingle runs up my arm
as my fingers move across the screen,
gathering dry, gray dust
and leaving a clear line in their wake.
I cut the power
and light shrinks
toward the screen’s center
like water falling down a sink’s drain.
Even powerless the television breathes
for in its screen I see myself,
in ethereal blackness.
Published by Michael Rappa
Writer, traveler, photographer, hiker, film/TV addict, amateur chef, casual gamer, and occasional tennis & saxophone player . . . in real life I do web development.
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