The Monitor
The red dot targets my forehead
Confirming to them I have no fever
Therefore I am now permitted
To enter their space thereafter
A curious ritual and technology
That determines my acceptance
To enter a place without apology
Measured healthy just by chance
Thankfully no device yet will
Monitor my heart and my soul
In such a manner that authorities
May measure that I am acceptably whole
Poetry by josephus
Read 250 times
Written on 2021-02-14 at 00:39
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