Dave Bonta's short poem looks at how a smartphone can stand between us and the world it seems to open up. The speaker calls the device "an instrument to set / my trust upon," a phrase that makes it sound almost like a compass or an altar. Then comes a quiet admission: there is no "better world to finger," a pun on touching a screen and on handling something precious. The world has become something we swipe through.
The images turn odd and a little uneasy. The screen is "green as an anchor," which suggests both steadiness and being weighed down, held in place. The final lines, "apping over the stones / I did not go see," sound like a small confession. The speaker skims across places without actually visiting them.
The mood is calm on the surface but tinged with regret. Nothing is shouted. The speaker simply notices how much they ask of the device, and how much real experience that trust may have replaced.