I have known the merciless melancholy of computer screens,

Identical in their lineup, dolor of keypads and HDMI cords,

All the misery of plastic plants and video calls,

Uniformity of generic meeting places,

Darkened copy room, lavatory, soundproof office booth,

The unalterable pathos of stale coffee in logo mugs,

Ritual of algorithms, shared folders, emojis,

Endless duplication of lives and images.

And I have seen dust from the ceilings of corporations,

Finer than cocaine, operative, more lethal than lithium,

Sift, almost untraceably, through long weekdays of tedium,

Layering a fine membrane on nails and contoured foreheads,

Obscuring pale skin, the duplicate gray standard faces.

After Theodore Roethke, “Dolor,” 1943

Dolor

Theodore Roethke, 1943

I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils,

Neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paper weight,

All the misery of manilla folders and mucilage,

Desolation in immaculate public places,

Lonely reception room, lavatory, switchboard,

The unalterable pathos of basin and pitcher,

Ritual of multigraph, paper-clip, comma,

Endless duplication of lives and objects.

And I have seen dust from the walls of institutions,

Finer than flour, alive, more dangerous than silica,

Sift, almost invisible, through long afternoons of tedium,

Dropping a fine film on nails and delicate eyebrows,

Glazing the pale hair, the duplicate grey standard faces.