Automaton*
I do not need you to take care of me.
That is what my organs are for.
My heart beats, unprompted
sometimes, even, flipping upon itself.
How fortunate,
how
marvelous
I am to have such acrobatic innards.
Automaton(s)
Alive.
Like that time you took me to dinner
and laughed at my unease, at my
greenness. I’m certain
later
at the eagerness with which I threw it
all on the fire.
My, “Can I have one?”
the filling of two
quite
virgin lungs (I still
can’t catch my breath).
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment