Size / / /

All men are created equal but we

can fix that now:

                    elixir genes

for our rewired /reloaded minds,

the pristine ping of clockwork hearts

with crystal chips & atom beats,

a nudge to certain balky glands.

All men are defeated equal yet we

fixate on more:

                   some fivescore years

at least before our dread of dark,

a labyrinth of diagrams

denying merely mutant change,

the weight of tech against Thoth's scale.

All men are repeated equal till we

stand fixed as this:

                     a tribe of one

beneath its polished mirror moon,

bereft of stars & flesh & all

unshaped unbidden miracles,

these aliens we made ourselves.

Ann K. Schwader lives, writes, and volunteers at her local branch library in Westminster, CO. Her most recent poetry collection is Twisted in Dream (Hippocampus Press 2011). Her dark SF poetry collection Wild Hunt of the Stars (Sam's Dot Publishing, 2010) was a Bram Stoker Award nominee. She is a member of SFWA, HWA, and SFPA. Her LiveJournal is Yaddith Times.
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8 Jul 2024

The statue of that gorgeous and beloved tyrant, my father, stands in a valley where the weather has only ever been snow.
Panic will come / for every fuckwitted one of us
Neural-lace, my brain interfaced
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