David Atkinson: Two Poems

Zuckerberg’s Dissident

We try to stay in touch when you’re away.

Parental love runs deeper than you know

and truth be told we miss you every day.

Friends indicate that Facebook is the way

but selfie boastfulness is not our go.

We try to stay in touch when you’re away.

Within our private world is where we’ll stay,

attention seekers reap the crop they sow.

Now truth be told we miss you every day.

The distance to New York begins to weigh

but Instagram and Twitter we’ll forgo.

We try to stay in touch when you’re away.

On social media a wide array

of posts and tweets to stroke the frail ego.

The truth be told we miss you every day.

There’s vanity and swagger as they play

but we’ll avoid the ostentatious show.

We try to stay in touch when you’re away

and truth be told we miss you every day.

David Atkinson

Old-World Technology

Tiny head trembles, whiskers twitch,

tail trails, disappears

into the dormant oil heater.

Was that a mouse?

“Something must be done”.

For so long disregarded,

languid in the drawer,

the mousetrap is retrieved.

Immobile innocence.

Spring-loaded, cold wire no longer inert,

components transformed into a machine for killing.

Golden saffron cheese, pungent,

counterbalances stained wood.

A fitful night of perhaps significant seconds.

Rises early in anticipation

to inspect the outcome,

to establish there is no need

to build a better mousetrap.

David Atkinson