These countenances fixed in photograph
Won’t blench or brighten at the things you say.
The deeper feelings are not on display.
They’ve time to edit each brief paragraph
And you will seldom catch them in a gaffe.
Although they can’t determine what thoughts may
Be thought of them by readers far away,
At what is not conveyed no one can laugh.
And then there is that button saying “Like”—
Coin of approval flung to beggar’s bowl.
And all the “likes” are tallied, which could hike
The stakes in this game whose name is Control
Through Shallowness. And what shall then become
Of souls left faceless, unaddressed and mum?
This poem is part of a collected work on the internet by Esther Cameron that will be published on Sasson post-Chanukah, 5778.