A Man from China

by on May 26, 2021 :: 0 comments

A man from China is remoting my screen
and waiting, How few
inventions meet their promise.
I stay home now, avoid the plague
man’s created from lust for alchemy,
a plague only alchemy can end.

I’m home alone enough
to contemplate the failure of toilets
and shortcomings of electric stoves,
pet food dispensers,
face shields, and masks
that trade identity for health.

I’ve been worrying a lot
for the man from China,
for the way he drives himself,
a doctor who works like a peasant,
always on to the next task
the bosses have asked him to perform

on pain of penalties
they leave to an imagination
he’s long shunted away.
I say and type his name
as mechanical penance
for our latest innovation.

I worry he is not eating well,
not kissing his wife good night,
if he’s had the time to love.
He is not redeemed
in keeping us safe,
in sacrificing himself.

My screen dances to the robotic
tune of his fingers entering code
more psalm than threnody.

– George Guida

editors note:

Work rendered remotely; no remote reason for redemption at either site – mh clay

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