a youth lost by Elly Veritas

chasing

internet fame we

roll down hills of childhoods disused

spitting out bitter grass

and cartwheel for cameras

we chew artisan bread always noosed

to our phones-

hardly look away to blink

(our tears are provided by plastic)

and when the battery’s gone and died

we wipe dust off the carousel

horses. our youth gone to rust

you cannot assure me

that I have lived