a notes-app poem

from the citadel of Bastia (23 mai, 2025)

maybe we make microchips
from minerals 
stolen from the earth
because we envy 
the memory of stone.

just watch the light 
on this ombré-amber wall
carved and cracked by time
how the light changes
from 6:55 to 7:05
(when the morning carillon
reaches its cacophonous
peak) watch the light
change and you will understand
how much this wall sees,
absorbs, reflects back
on a daily basis, how much
this wall must know.

this stone holds the resonance
of centuries of bells
millennia of birdsong
insects humming
children playing 
not to mention
all the wars.
stone remembers.

the old woman hanging
laundry on the balcony
must think me mad
but i rest my cheek
against the peeling paint 
anyway, just to listen.
just in case.

//

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friday notes-app poems are published here in celebration of the writing practice we sneak into spare little moments, when words tumble forth and we scurry to catch them. like when you stare at a wall so long you overcook your kid’s breakfast… for example.

cheers to your scribbles on the back of an old birthday card, a faded receipt, and yes, in the notes app on your phone. carry on, scribe of precious unedited instants.

until next time, sending love from here.

💚//mischa