The Poet Community

Bad Apples | A Poem by Ralph Monday

Anachronisms are like bad apples
in a medieval painting of the garden.
A portable typewriter with broken keys,
a 1956 tubed radio without batteries,
a grandmother corseted, grim.
Past relics voicing thin gramophone tongues,
mechanical ghosts groaning machine tones
from a junkyard underworld with no human
to wind their guts; they, like the war-born
grandmother, cry out to the digitals for
permanence.

Instead, wither, decay, while the new human
thumbed instruments buries the old.


Ralph Monday has had over 200 poems published in literary journals and online literary sites. A chapbook, All American Girls and Other Poems was recently published, and a book Lost Houses and American Renditions is forthcoming from Hen House Press.



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