Sunburnt Robot (6/2021)

I’m stable
Only constantly trip on my cable
Somebody plug me in

Cord coiled, burning.
Tin tanned, learning.
Waiting’s not processing
Flip, flick it, just turn me on.

A doubt-drought brought socks I bought,
got thrown to the snow, now tossed out.
Eyes caught slaughter laughter after they saw her.
The daughter. I brought her wood floors to lay, play on,
and doors to lead to more that would help us stay here.

Stars stare down stairs and wonder.
Electricity wandering.
Weight whispers “wait” to the wind as it winds away…
Would you bring your breeze west?
Your storm understands mine best.

Who programmed this scrolling imagination?
Why build in so much memory?
Move me away from this window.

I’m able
Only run to the end of this cable
Somebody pull the plug

Wires wound, hooking.
Gold glaze, cooking.
Nothing’s not processing
Flip, flick it, just turn me on.