We lost the far away from our eyes
peering at our precious tiny screens.
Addicted to the chatter in the blue light
we spat and growled at the slam, slam, slam,
of constant crisis, constant cries.
We marched figuratively through our newsfeeds,
wound tighter and tighter—blinded,
to that which was not inside our screens.
And all the while the earth was turning,
away, away, away.
Until we could see her
no more, and we were gone.


F. E. Clark lives in Scotland where she writes, paints, and takes photographs – taking inspiration from nature in all its forms, and the magical landscape around her. A Pushcart, Best of the Net, and Small Fictions nominee, her poetry, flash fiction, and short stories can be found in anthologies and literary magazines.
Website: | Twitter: @feclarkart