Mass Effect, by Katy Lederer


Pushed together, pulled apart, we were purported pluripotent.
We developed as an organ, a benign and beating heart.

We sought physicians for histology. Discovered spinal symmetry.
Within the sacred bowl of life, our innards spilled in red array.

I wondered what you’d have to say if in your mouth you grew a tongue.
I wondered what I’d have to say if in my head I grew a mouth.

Instead we moved into a house, connected by a modem.
A surgical removal could have cured us of our malady.

But seeking to remain benign, we discoursed through telepathy.
How long could we have lived like this?

With our then-rudimentary eyes we saw shapes coming toward us:
amorphous and black, shedding tears. We had nothing to say.

 

3 thoughts on “Mass Effect, by Katy Lederer

  1. Pingback: Rime Riche, by Monica Ferrell | Once-A-Day Poetry

  2. Pingback: Many-Roofed Building in Midnight, by Jane Hirshfield | Once-A-Day Poetry

  3. Pingback: 45 I Give Up My Identity, by Jerome Rothenberg | Once-A-Day Poetry

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