The Suicide Robots

When I created the world
with its shattered arcs
and moss-clad concrete corners
broken cobbles in the street
and urine in dark alcoves
with acute sightlines
I built robots that were so smart
that they marked every flaw
discerned clefted marble
and the feldspars weathering out
of granite walls.
They were not waterproof and went
into the river in droves
the electrolytes there a better fate than
the overwhelmingly broken world.

I sat up from my desk and scratched my head
tore that sheet out of the pad
in a fluid fold of telephone wires and
flying buttresses

In the new world the robots look at
the white of the chess board
at the grass growing up
through cracked pavements

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