Do not scroll news as if skimming your eyes like stones across water
As your concentration struggles with its grip on a story
Wanting instant gratification without effort
And only in eyefuls at two-second intervals on a smartphone.
Don’t swipe away the efforts of the earnest hack,
Whose exhaustive research is well worth a second look
And your attention until the punchline. Buy a newspaper.
The lighters of real fires and keepers like me,
Of chinchillas and dogs and owls in kitchens,
Rely on your affection for the physical page
And your desire to study articles on war and peace or the Turner Prize,
Over coffee and toast, or on a train heading East on a Saturday.
Thousands moving home have cushioned their plates
And their breakable treasures between the crumpled pages
Of the last election, Prince Andrew, Wegovy and the rate of inflation.
Newspapers remain, long after the power goes down and the lights go out.
Like cash, they are a currency not dependent on electricity
At the point of delivery. Multi-purpose,
More sustainable than bubble wrap,
They are the indispensable cage-base for a ferret called Pants.
