This is a Poem, Not Trash
SHANDI SILER
In a dig, archeologists look for the trash-heap.The trash-heap is more likely
to be left alone and graciously preserved—forgotten.
• Bengal spice tea
• Caramel syrup
• Milk
• Cereal
• I wish the internet wasn’t watching me
all the time.
I’m actually okay with it sometimes.
It’s like how they tore down grandma’s house
and built a really nice Valero;
It’s super convenient
but so unsettling.
Sometimes I just miss the house
without the ads;
the feeling that time has changed us so much.
I never thought I would be part of the first
generation to leave behind
an avatar/ archive/ monument/ tombstone
when we die.
I’ve been more places than any of my predecessors;
I’ve seen more wonders
in full HD
in the comfort of my bed.
I remember this space in its infancy,
being held together by
dial up,
Ask Jeeves,
AOL,
Myspace—
we’re scrolling on a graveyard.
The Oregon Trail Millennials:
first generation
to blaze the pixel trail,
to learn (on a global scale)
the reality of our fate:
our footprints memorized
by The Algorithm
—It will learn every one of us.
Study us,
The Great A.I.
Look into the eyes of Time Itself;
standing on tiptoes,
I’m pressing my ink-dipped hands
into the ceiling of your code:
Remember me.
I was here.
From the untamed heart of Arkansas, SHANDI SILER’s poetry invites you down rural highways, and into graveyards at midnight—asking ancestral questions, and searching for the promise of a better future. Her work is deeply personal and boldly rebellious, as only a true southerner can deliver. Primarily a spoken word artist, she hosts a monthly poetry event in Fort Smith, Arkansas, that has become a sanctuary for voices too often left unheard. She lives in a home brimming with color, crafts, and rabbits, where she keeps watch over her family and ponders on the small, strange stories that connect us all. Should we all still exist, you can snag her debut collection, Testimony, in fall of 2026—brought to you by Gnashing Teeth Publishing.
