Branded Poetry: Netflix
It can safely be assumed
that I’m about to be consumed
by the 24/7 show
that has no need for a remote.
I’ll never know the fuzzy static
or the antenna perched in my parents’ attic
or the TV guide sitting in my drawer
or the cable subscription we had before.
I’m in bed, not on my couch,
With my snacks, I’m no longer a grouch.
Watching a bitter, old talking horse
and a female felon not quite in remorse.