Can the algorithm
Hear me cry?
And if so, does it
Recognise why?
Do I still make the same face
As I used to, when I was small:
Cheeks forming hills
Corners of my mouth awry
Nose, reindeer red
Top of my lips
Speckled with crimson dots.
Where’s my cat?
What does she know?
Might the algorithm suggest
Therapy
Or that I take a walk
Does it know I already did both?
Who else would know
What it feels like
To watch them grow old
From afar
And not being able to touch them
Or pass time
Silently, sitting on a sofa.
What it feels like not to be able to
Take them to their doctors
Change their light bulb
Clean out their fridge
Or the old armoire
Or fix their technical difficulties
For the 100th time?
Does the algorithm know why
Every goodbye, is such a monster
Gnawing at my throat
Suffocating my chest
My soul.
A climactic devastation
A ruinous event
An emotional famine
An unintelligible pain…
I think the cat knows
And my eyes will swallow up tomorrow
No need to make excuses though.
t.a
April 16, 2024