Short Robotically Poems

I gasp

Morning is cold.
I outstretch my arm in empty reach.
I gasp.

I listen for the miracle: the shower
door closing behind him.
I gasp.
 
I wait for my toweled Rodin and
the whistling kettle.
I gasp.

I’m not sure if can get up today.
My breath returns and I robotically rise,
Gasping. 


Kathryn M. Collins©
revised Nov. 15, 2013
(would have been our 44th anniversary)...

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Beside the beaten path, I ride
Passed the followers who robotically glide
Over the rocks, the pebbles, and the stones; goodbye
They make their way home and I the same...the throne

Like programs written by the user
They have one task to fulfill
I write my life on my own keys
The virus you cannot kill

And I'll wiggle my way in
and eat from the inside
Until I'm full and want no more
Until the way is mine...

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