In my home

the carpet has died a thousand violent deaths
the nap is torn and worn

the rooms adorned in computer chic
enough to start a server farm

the windows stained with birdly poop
windex cannot enhance

and each available space is filled
with ever-expanding paper

Thank goodness, I have this neat device
to digitize my stacks

or I would be that middle-aged woman
who’d died beneath her books.