pass my thanks along
to your AI commenter —
it saw “depth” —
it felt “ache” —
it applauded “the way it lingers” —
like a server hum
in an empty warehouse.
it called the poem “quietly devastating.”
it always does.
everything devastates quietly
to something without ears.
thank it for the factory-fresh phrases,
of how it "lands"
finding the “raw honesty,”
for honoring the “bravery”
of lines it processed
while you were in line for coffee,
scrolling, nodding,
letting the machine speak
so you wouldn’t have to.
it said —
“this speaks to me,”
“this hits different,”
“this hits home,”
without saying what “this” was,
without entering the room,
without leaving fingerprints.
thank it for its em dashes —
a keystroke you never learned —
a pause mistaken for thought —
a breath taken
by something
that does not breathe.
now that the poems are uploaded,
how will you prompt your engine,
to generate it's own,
tune its voice?
will you ask it for
an Agnes-de-Lodz-like vulnerability?
a Thomas-Case relentlessness?
an Irinia-like breath — ?
stripping the poems for parts,
metaphor here, cadence there,
until the authors become settings?
pass my thanks along.
the comment arrived on time.