Elegy for the Tactile (Part I)

It is a very distant place where email is considered rude
(by contrast, letters hand-written in pencil preferred),

stories are always spoken aloud, books made of paper and ink,
paintings of canvas and oil, sculptures drawn from earth and heaven,

and music still manufactured by breath, feet, fingers and hands;
computer screens (otherwise useless due to lack of electricity)

are covered with colorful ribbons and sometimes rosary beads,
flower petals, and locks of the hair of former lovers,

and cell phones traded for the exotic lace of your lover's lips
whispering words you cannot hear but know eternally.


—Martin A. Bartels