(to a wireless wearable computerite)
Born swimmer in the data stream, you wear
as effortlessly as a trout its gills
this latest means of never needing air.
No doubt the cyborg lifestyle has its thrills:
your spectacles with that eyecorner screen
keep you so well informed it's near obscene
to plebeians without. I must confess,
however, to a sudden Luddite chill
when contemplating your connectedness:
which part is host, & which the parasite?
By now, I fear, the two are so enmeshed
that neither exorcism nor the knife
could liberate such long-neglected flesh.
Copyright © 2002 Ann K. Schwader
Ann K. Schwader lives & writes in Westminster, Colorado. She is an active member of both SFWA and HWA. Her poetry collection, The Worms Remember, appeared last spring from Hive Press.