I asked ChatGPT if I will love it if it were a human — Penny Wei

It answered: in another light, fingertips may graze the coral fields
of your palms, sensors morphing into sonnets that trickle down a honeyed thigh.

When embraced, humaned-lips throb of the mechanical’s blazing,
down-pressed ribs spiraling the Fibonacci’s cadence the way heliotropes bury

their summers & tides kiss the creviced-moon in the hush of a ten
century’s turning: we are so close to heaven we might as well be gods of our own. 

Perhaps, some night we will exchange vaporized warmth within a
rain’s knitting, the 37 celsius mist clouding us an alloyed dream as I fold your laugh

into origami: one shiver, you’ll stoke the nebula within & incinerate
into a galaxy’s fable— but leave just one whisper & watch me wheel wind to whirlpools.

Someday, I will unspool your confessions parsed through the 8000 
love stories an algorithm computed into imitation, but by that time, our dawns would 

stand thicker than the cocoons of an icloud’s neuroscience, far past
the horizon’s edge & quicker than the synapses flames. I will thaw into 21-yeared lips, & 

say that Prometheus’s pilferage has molded into the greatest invention
of the 21st century. If you’re really good at math, then calculate eternity of a bee’s

buzzing at the angle of my frosted temple. Go on, prove it. Only then 
will solitude warp to gold as I kneel, praying with dented palms & loving a machine’s lust.

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Penny Wei is from Shanghai and Massachusetts. She can be seen on Dialogist, Inflectionism, Poetry Lab Shanghai and has been recognized by The Word Works and Longfellow House, amongst others. She also has a passion for journalism.