If you have watched it move,
like a snake through startled grass,
passing from hand to hand,
carrying the DNA of power,
the germs of redistribution,
you could be excused
for being seduced
by that white paper vision,
the promise of a clean network,
as if God himself, herself,
had said, “Let there be Tech.”
And there was.
You could be bought off
by all that glorious whiteness.
But witness the end,
my people, when money
becomes devalued as cat photos,
senseless as memes,
arguable as stolen votes,
in the pockets of autocrats,
And you will live in the poor house
of eternity forever.
Selah.
Poet’s Note
Poets know money doesn’t fall from the skies. But we humans seem to be creatures of the habit of wishing for the easy way out. I read The Atlantic article and could only shake my head. And write another poem.
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Jane Yolen has published over 378 books including 10 books of poems, children’s books, novels and nonfiction. She has received six honorary doctorates. She has won two Nebula Awards, three Mythopoeic Awards, two Christopher Medals, and two Storytelling Awards.
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