POEM: "The hand-held device"

"The hand-held device"

                               for Susan Hawthorne

The hand-held device
I hold is the mind itself
mine by accident, whose

signals cross all the time
like a crocodile or the wind
it could well be holding me

and sometimes I'll know
who or what it's calling
(I will answer for them both)

for somewhere in the mind
near the thick edge
there is a little music

and a flower
(always a flower)
in the rain.


© 2016 Rob Schackne