The remote clatters
Back into
The carefully carved
Artisan bowl,
Headless
Of any damage
Such brash treatment
Might abide.
The massive supernova
Of a screen up on the stand
Goes black,
Devoid of power
To distract her anymore.
She picks up a book instead,
Reading art
Upon a page
As if it were
A canvas
Upon
A gallery wall.
The infusion
Of creative beauty
So complete
It moves the muse
To begin
To whisper
Again.
