On Technology, Mobility, and Relinquishing Control

Techno Turbulence, with Mobility Hiatus Ahead

The daylight came,
an everyday miracle
and I rose to it
with pure intentions.

My poet’s heart drummed
insistent rhythm,
and I sang along
with equanimity.

Thing one:
A stack of forms to be filled
and filed on behalf of a dear one.
Make it yesterday, please,
An email implored.
Do it now do it now do it now.

Missing information,
more forms, phone calls,
passwords unknown,
log-ins shunned,
more than an hour of this,
and still my heart tapped,
and I could imagine poems
conceiving themselves in the space
between the beats.

Thing two:
An email announcing
Warning: Make this change.
Current system will become obsolete,
do it now do it now do it now.

There was a snag, and then
another, as snags often inbreed,
multiplying with unreasonable speed.
Four phone calls, information relay,
You’ll need to use your mobile now
and your debit card.
Give us the numbers.

I don’t want to give you my cell phone.
I don’t use debit cards.

No, Ma’am, you are not allowed
to be living without one. A mobile device,
and a card that sucks at your bank account
with no paper in between. No,
it is not possible to make this essential upgrade
without those conduits.

It was a weak song dribbling
from the flower in my chest, my lotus,
my center, my home.
It was a song nonetheless.

Thing three:
The upcoming surgery
will render you housebound,
one-legged, near useless
in the Ways of the Running of Things,
and well and truly deficient
in the Caregiving Department.

That’s just my primary occupation,
ensuring the health, safety, happiness,
comfort and continuity
for the two-leggeds,
one with special needs, one without,
and for the five furry four-legged ones.

It’ll only be some weeks,
six or seven or eight,
and then you’ll be among the mobile again,
walking on two feet ,
showering and trotting up and down stairs,
driving, even.

Beneath my ribs I sensed a hum,
weak yet audible,
and if it were a worded thing,
lyrical, elucidating,
it may have sung

Long night ahead, love.
Tuck yourself in tight,
prepare to lose control.
Dream deep and know:
daylight will come again.

-Melinda Coppola

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