Square grid of numbered boxes
bordered in ordered blackness.
Numbered clues, across and down.
Gradual filling in of spaces
Pencil or ink? Erase or cross out?
Dimming vision mandates ink.
Near the end now. Shall I cheat?
Google makes it feel like “research.”
Google search says many do.
Don’t I see myself above that? Yet
do I have the time to ponder,
even for a moment more?
“Wasting time,” some say about it.
My trusty pen knows better though.
She and I are filling grid cells,
saving brain cells, making word spells,
staving off demon dementia
for at least a moment more.
This poem was written for Miz Quickly’s January 9 prompt in which we were to make a list poem by describing attributes of an object or idea. While working on the NYT Sunday crossword, I decided on this.