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Reclamation MAG
June 28, 2022
A 1929 Remington typewriter,
in a home of mind’s decline.
It weighs a hundred pounds,
with a bell that sounds,
When you reach the end of a line.
A senile poet sat,
and pressed upon a key.
A sonnet of joy and clacking ink
For he finally remembered
Marie.
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For Christmas my parents brought me a typewriter from a shop downtown that used to repair them. I don’t write anything on it, but wondering about all the people who have typed essays and memos with it gives me a lot to write about.