VANISHING HORIZON
Instead of the live cry
of the seagull,
the ping of an email
arrives
instead of the beating of wings
on a wide expanse
our eyes squint
on a palm sized horizon
we control the sound
we control the light
we determine what and
when surprises arrive
in our hand
where the horizon now abides
we lose ourselves
in pixels—
a screen lights up at will
is it day or is it night?
gone is the mystery of
the setting sun
once clouds
signaled the end of day
we now control the flight of email
in a device held like a bible
— Abraham Menashe
© 2017