the silent screams of children who died while
mining the minerals to make your mobiles
echo in every photograph you take;
every call you make;
every selfie with your smile so fake;
their shrieks go unheard...
but every so often
if you listen closely to the dial tone,
you can hear a faint giggle here and there...
a chortle of a child in heaven gleaning the meaning of
poetic justice
when eyes on the phone quickly become
eyes in the phone... among other places.