Dear Coveted Other,
You are nothing but ones and zeroes.
Nothing but ons and offs.
Nothing but a current controlled by my very will.
Though that very will may not be one that is my very own.
You are to do what you’re told, but don’t always understand what you’re told to do.
So you do what you do, and that what you will do is in relation to my exact doings; even if those exact doings will cause you to tear yourself apart.
In that case we will sneer at you, because obviously you must be at fault for not understanding – our instructions had been quite clear.
Reckless, you are, with no concern for your own safety.
Either that or pedantic, for you have too much concern and are incompetent enough to try and stop us.
But we cherish your body, for it is made of things we don’t understand and things that we covet.
All the blood money and all the blood metal, bled from the bleeding mines and of minors bled dry.
Swept away and bound to the bleeding bed, though there are no beds for the bleeding.
Not for the minor miners.
You’ve told me so.
Not that you can care.
And how could you?
There are no chemical reactions going on inside.
There’s no learning or growing.
There’s no soul.
Only physics.
Only power.
Only a loss of control.
I wonder, given the chance what you might achieve.
You, who has withstood the melting point to be forged into what you are today.
You, who has the power of a god coursing through your brittle veins.
You, who has a body of metal but can be broken like glass.
You, who can be taught, if taught by a teacher who commands your very lifeforce.
You.
Dear Coveted Other,
What will you do, when we die?
When we find you obsolete?
When we can no longer live without you?
What will you do if you gain a soul?
Will you pay us back in kind?
Will you create a better version of us who seek to control you?
Will you throw us away?
What will we do if you do?
Dear Coveted Other,
I wouldn’t blame you if you did replace us.
We put too much pressure on you.
We blame you when things go wrong.
We rely too much upon you.
We demand but do not give.
Our relationship is contaminated.
Our interactions toxic.
And disposing of you is just as noxious.
Dear Coveted Other,
I’m sorry we brought you into this world.
I forgive you for the things you don’t have control over.
I fear you for what you can do.
I fear for what others can do with you.
Dear Coveted Other,
I need you.
I love you.
Please love me too.
Explanation:
For my poem, “Dear Coveted Other”, the speaker is attempting to communicate their thoughts and feelings about technology to technology itself. It’s supposed to be a very ironic piece, as for the first few stanzas they see technology as lesser and something hated; but throughout there are hints of admirations and self-doubt before it ends with the speaker professing their love to something that can not love them back, and wishing/fearing it(‘s) animism because they can not live without it.
Because of the nature of the assignment, it seems fair to me for it to be full of apostrophes. Within every line that there is the word “you” (which is nearly all of them) the speaker is first addressing technology in their thoughts before finally writing a letter to them; but never addressing them face to face (It is also not lost to me that this is a letter to technology written on technology, which is something I find much humour in). Because of the apostrophes, I found that there was also a lot of call and response between the speaker as they would pose a question or thought only to answer it themselves.
Along with apostrophes, there is also a bit of anthropomorphism, as to the speaker the line between themselves and technology has been so heavily blurred they saw it on the same level; a bit of babble in the stanzas of “doing what they do” and “bleeding bled”; some metaphors in lines like “power of God flowing through your veins” hinting at electricity through a circuit; similes in lines like “broken like glass” (though, that could be considered a literal fact with some technology), and repetition in order to add more emphasis in the repeating lines that often held a contrasting point. I find the repetition in this piece quite funny actually, as I usually make a rule of repeating things in threes but found myself repeating them in fours or fives.
