This is my attempt at an “Objectivist” poem. It was part of our assignment; an in-class response in Modern Poetry. It probably may not be classified as such, but here is my “attempt” at Objectivist poetry.

My Phone 

It sits upon my desk
            at work.
I do not think about it –
            but there it is.

 Things happen
            with my phone.
I talk to clients.
I talk to co-workers.
I even talk to my
            Six-month old granddaughter.

 I talk to my sister
            who tells me
How Mom is doing;
            but I do not think
            of my phone.
It is just there.

Every day my husband
            calls, just to see
            how I am feeling.
The coil of the cord
            rests in a nook where
            it is often caught.
It is the only time I
            think about my phone –
When I am angry at
            it – for getting snagged
            on something.

© 2011 Lynden Rodriguez

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