people walking downstairs tapping people
opening doors clicking people on toilets scrolling
clicking my witching rod pining
for escape people crossing streets tapping
people watching kids climbing clicking people
my pocket-sized trap door what I
touch most in a day if everyone does it it’s okay
my fingers skitter like wings over five-inch screens
jitter patterns through minutes I used to
pick up my head look around
the sprawl is inside me now
people in meetings scrolling frowning
people weed-wacking clicking people
jogging tapping A guy who used to work
for Facebook tells me They know exactly how to
_hook you Don’t feel bad about being addicted _ So I shouldn’t
feel guilty for texting when my friend is telling
me a story when my kids are yelling for help
when the light is yellow people
at stoves tapping people on bikes scrolling
scrolling people kissing clicking people
clicking scrolling people tapping
clicking people I just have to check this one thing
scrolling clicking scrolling people
My son tells me how he ends his bad dreams: I blink
Emily Mohn-Slate is the author of The Falls, winner of the New American Poetry Prize (forthcoming, New American Press, 2020), and Feed, winner of the Keystone Chapbook Prize (Seven Kitchens Press, 2019). Her poems and essays can be found in New Ohio Review, Tupelo Quarterly, AGNI, The Adroit Journal, and elsewhere. She lives and teaches in Pittsburgh, where she is part of the Madwomen in the Attic writing workshops at Carlow University. (updated 4/2020)