Prepare Files. Please Wait.

Prepare Files. Please Wait.

 

 

It's Monday morning and,

I'm gathering up. All that

paperwork -

 

That lines our lives – in

a mixture of formal brown,

Simple white, rigid red, to

the black edged cards that

signify your death.

 

Prepare files: the transmission

an echo of data waterfalls. Vivid

the passage of pixels, over-bright,

too pictured love, Selfies in digital.

 

My Love. Please Wait.

Hold onto that last breath.

 

Emails can't follow you

via the region of fatality.

Changes flicker in your eyes,

I reflect. A Monday afternoon

of silence, tinged with regret.

 

Maintenance computer checks,

blesses us, with discs formatted

of our life together. A mix of colours

that hold our thoughts in google, and in

searches on the net. A testament of work

so fluent in expression. A final note

to call me later in. My Love:

 

Hold onto that last sweet breath.

It's not too late for one last moment

caught in the web-cam's tiny eye

which scrutinises predictive behaviours

of the human kind. You sigh.

Too high. Too far away.

 

I know tomorrow will be no better

than today. The sadness lingers on

the air. The computer is packed away

in thin plastic sheets, in a box.

I place it between your waxen hands.

Although I know that sending emails

is too silly... past the doors of death!