Poetry

“Charming White Saltbox,” “IT WAS TARGET (i’m so sorry target),” and “How to write when your brain is broken”

by Arielle Tschinkel
Image
Unsplash+

Charming White Saltbox

Can ChatGPT make me a cup of tea?

Can AI give you a quick, gentle kiss goodbye?

Will Claude stay up all night talking

until our weary hearts have thawed?

Does Grok know your favorite house to walk by?

That charming white saltbox down the block

Will Gemini remember that I get wistful on April 11

Or pay any mind at all to the reason why?

If ChatGPT could make me a cup of tea

I’d still want you to bring it to me

IT WAS TARGET (i’m so sorry target)

Why does my dentist need to know

The date of my last period

And whether or not I have been hospitalized

Before I sit down for a set of x-rays

Why does the website need to know

If I am human or a robot

When the internet is now

Humanity’s final resting place

I am a human

And I have been hospitalized

I accidentally pressed ‘no’ on the checkout screen

Which means I got a single paper bag for free

The guilt ate away at me the entire drive home

Wondering if my dentist needs to know

That I stole five cents from a company worth $100 billion

It was an accident

I am a human

And I have been hospitalized

How to write when your brain is broken

To be a writer you must simply write

Your practice, your craft, your curiosity must abound

But putting things on the page overwhelms me

Did I unplug the toaster this morning?

I’ll read some poetry for inspiration

What was that Instagram page I liked?

Aching and longing, the slow burn of a deep yearn

Psst... Pilates is making you fat

Characters I meet briefly, the glimmer of a gorgeous new idea

Jot it down, notebook or notes app or wrinkled napkin

What if it’s bad? What if they laugh?

Baby Botox: everything you need to know and when to start

Exhale, put something down on the page

Who fucking cares if it’s bad?

I forgot to call the doctor’s office last week

Israeli soldiers bombed the last remaining hospital

It’s unclear how many civilians are dead

I have a heated steering wheel

Pulled from his home, Crocs in the snow

Boxer shorts and a throw blanket as cloak

Social media is too political

Did I unplug the toaster this morning?

About the Author

Arielle Tschinkel

Before AI and an unsteady media landscape took her job, Arielle spent a decade as a freelance writer based in the suburbs of NYC. She received her B.A. in journalism and sociology from New York University. Her work has appeared in outlets including Women's Health, SHAPE, Motherly, Scary Mommy, Apartment Therapy, and many others. She is currently pursuing a creative writing MFA from Sarah Lawrence College with a focus on fiction. Arielle is a proud member of the National Writers Union and the Authors Guild.