Voice Not Recognized
A poem by Roseanne Freed

Voice Not Recognized

We bought a new TV
in 2022, but got an AI machine,
which constantly interrupts
our conversations.

When I told my spouse,
You’re a good friend,
the TV replied,
Going to the channels,

and displayed shows
about friends.
Geez, Big brother’s watching us,
I said, and it gave us a selection

of “Big Brother” episodes,
in its 25th season.
Strangely it only responds
to me, though not all the time.

Yesterday I was advised,
Voice not recognized.

I remember having to get up
from my chair to adjust the volume,
or change the channel
when TV came to South Africa

in 1976, and there was only
one station, five hours a night—
two-and-a-half in English,
and two-and-a-half in Afrikaans,

and on Thursday nights
Johannesburg shut down early,
because Dallas.

Photo by Angus MacNeil.

About the Author:

Roseanne Freed grew up in apartheid South Africa and now lives in California. She had many fascinating encounters with tourists from all over the world during the years she worked at the Getty Museum in Los Angeles. A Best of the Net nominee, her poems have appeared in MacQueens Quinterly, ONE ART, Naugatuck River Review and Writing in a Woman’s Voice among others.  

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