The Archive Insists.

There is a syntax error,

a system glitch and short circuit

that I cannot override

in my mind's eye.

I query my mind for love

and it returns your mouth.

Not kissing,

just speaking—

as if warmth and truth

needed a place to call home.

I try devotion.

Your shoulders render now,

strong and steady,

like they never learned

how to offload the weight of our world.

Compassion pulls your hands.

Always your hands.

As though the body remembers

before the brain

is granted access.

I change the word.

I change the parameters.

I ask for something neutral.

Something safe.

The image does not change.

At some point

I stop calling it an error

and start calling it

a limitation of the system.

The archive insists.

This result

is correct.