Meredith McCullough
Department of English; CSWGS Certificate Student

Once I thought up a mnemonic
To be taken as a tonic
Immunity to boring scanning.
You see, without the proper planning
I had journeyed to my machine
Without beloved phone or screen
For playing out my tuneful tunes,
Or watching youtube and news.

Instead I was just stuck. Staring
At the dull brown buttons blaring
And tiny angry bleeping lights
Of second paper-tray in-fights.
So I thought up a little song,
(It was actually rather long)
With sparkling effervescent wit
Of course, the rhyme and rhythm fit.

Oh, it was poetic delight!
And it proved that I could write
Beguiling visions, pure fancy,
On the topic of memory –
It really was quite something else,
Seeing I was all by myself,
I recited to that scanner
The next best thing after Homer:

My poetical mnemonic.
Though a touch cold and mechanic,
My reviews were completely rave
From thoughts upon opening stave
To opinions on conclusions.
But in my ink-stained confusions

I departed with scanned paper
And left my work hanging mid-air
Thinking breasily that later
Easily and without a care
I could simply write it down –
And, thanks to my careful rhyming
It could not even force a frown
Verbatim to recite the thing

Entirely from memory.
I picked up pen, my brain was wracked
But, disaster! Calamity!
It turns out that my memory’s cracked.
So my perfect round mnemonic
Was heard only by robotic
Solitary lone reviewer:
The clunky old beloved scanner.

And now I sit – alone, bereft
Of scanner, paper, rhyme, and you.
I charge this virus with theft
Of my pulitzer prize or two
Because now I cannot ask her
‘Dear scanner, do you not remember
When I wrote you a mnemonic?’
I could have been at least iconic.

But no. It is left embryonic,
Never to become harmonic
Words to rival those Miltonic
And Byronic notes of sonic
Bliss for muses all poetic.
Instead it is seeping septic
With the ink out of that scanner.
I know some say she lacks in glamour,

But I miss my scanner banter.