Ross White
Some technologies fail, and though
I’m sure a few lucky bathers found
oscillating tubs under their trees
on Christmas morning at the turn
of a new century, I bet by ‘01
those claw-footed mildew farms
were out by the curb. This year,
someone’ll open the blinds
and in the driveway they’ll see
a new electric truck that appears
to have been designed by a supervillain,
or unwrap an empty box and be told
that the gift is digital currency
issued by an angry president.
Hooray, hooray. The world is full
of things it never needed, but then
I’m sure a few ex-girlfriends
would include me in that list,
and about every fifth year,
The Atlantic makes a case that poems
are headed to the same scrap heap
as Bic for Her and spray-on hair,
baby cages and radium toothpaste.
So who am I to judge the man
who slides and shakes in the bath
with glee or the woman whose jaw
hollows but she’s thrilled with the glow
of her teeth? Do what brings you joy,
I guess. I’ve found little use
for all the rest.
Ross White is the director of Bull City Press, an independent publisher of poetry, fiction, and nonfiction. He is the author of Guilt Ledger, winner of the Wren Poetry Prize; Charm Offensive, winner of the Sexton Prize for Poetry; and three chapbooks: How We Came Upon the Colony, The Polite Society, and Valley of Want. His poems have appeared in American Poetry Review, New England Review, POETRY, Ploughshares, Poetry Daily, and The Southern Review, among others. He teaches creative writing at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Find him on Bluesky: @rosswhite.com