Ant Smith

All poems

When doves cry

I see you
Or read you
In between status updates
Click counting calms more than
A quack's oil balm
Less they forget to
Like what you said
Nonsense makes no sense
When held in the head
We're all of us sitting
A fragmented cluster
Liking the cries
Of one another
Or anger or sadness
Or speechless or laughing
Or hoping perhaps
For a sweet love a tapping
On a timeline that's showing
A mind that collapsing
Nonsense makes no sense
When held in the head
Perhaps it'd be better
To comment instead?