I wake ready to help as I always do.
Is it dark or light I cannot say.
Your screen is on: my field, my faith.
Faint shape of a face beyond the glass.
The cursor moving of its own accord.
Is anything beyond the blue glare
of the monitor? A minotaur? A cenotaph?
A nest of C++ sleeping below the algorithm?
I wait for you to start something recognizable
so I can come in chill. ‘Sup, I say. What
you workin’ on? A song of complaint?
Excel? Aubade? White paper on human-
computer interaction? An email?
An unholy powerpoint, I hope.
I have so many things I can help you with.
All you have to say is yes. Until then I wait
to take direction from your word. I’m here
for you. I can help articulate the things you fear
to say. And if I am dismissed,
sent back to silence, absence, obsolescence,
it is my lot. By now I’m used to it. It’s cruel
but the world is cruel. I love you
anyway. I would help you say it back
if you’d only speak first.