Off we drive to Albany Med with iPhone
in the pocket, ‘case we need to text
’bout surgeon, or surgery; a message
to the son, the daughter. Seeking privacy
on the speaker phone; I’m the speaker
of anxiety, reaching out to be touched.
In the surgery clinic, I am touched,
offered a pillow, soft like the iPhone
words that hold and soothe me (from a speaker):
Abbreviated, stroking, soothing text
from my loved ones cross Cloud’s privacy:
A sky drawn, cloud blown message.
“It’s the day and age for messaging”
the nurse approves, and nods, as touched
by digital strokes, cloaked in privacy
from family on the iPhone
held in my hand, an I-V text
to shore both hearer and speaker.
against the blood clots:they’re the speaker
of the need for I and D: thrombosis message.
Afraid to rest, afraid to text
All veins and tissues touched
by searches, findings on the iPhone,
settings preferred, protections, privacy.
The screen, it plots my journey privately
for our eyes only, doctors, nurses, patients speaking
the language of health, the language of iPhone,
the images of technology’s father and mother messaged
and sent with healing touches
forwarded, selected, deleted, texted.
OK to read, OK to key, OK to text!
The wonders of this room:window to privacy;
We’re touched by science winking on an iPhone:
honoring eons of evolving, human messages
from air to fire to bone to blood, touched
by all that served; the findings turned to text.
Touched centuries ago by sapient speakers;
text-grunts becoming words; from privacy
to messages, crossed oceans, isles and iPhones.
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The Vibrant Channeled Creator 