NaPoWriMo 4.3: You Can’t Look


“Let us get ourselves a pet…”

My, it’s getting late. Which might be why day three turned out quite so peculiarly (sorry not sorry). That’s my ‘excuse’ anyway.

I’d been meaning to write something about this news story for a while – and had the first couple of lines in my notebook. However,  I’d suggest reading this poem first, then looking at the news story – just to see what the effect is…

You Can’t Look*

In an instant, our faces became Bacon
smears skyward; the low hiss of moon-
sized fans on the horizon,
kaleidoscoping in. Our limbs
reformatting. Our skin
more river than bank.
These wind-up trainers
running for the train
our brains are on. Touch

will be the only sense
we need. We will grow
haptic trunks, feel the sky
smudging. Why wouldn’t I want
a burning tyre for a mind?

For my body to slide
out of resolution, the icon
slipping from my swimsuit?

Let us take a holiday
from our abdomens.
Let us get ourselves a pet
that is Cerberus with a third
off. Let us be only half
but the half which
beer. For our feet
will no longer touch
the ground, for neither

is ours, and neither
is here.

* NB: I asked the Jabberwacky chatbot: “What should I title this poem?”
It answered “You can’t look you don’t have eyes…”

And just then, when I told it, “Thank you, that’s perfect”, it replied:

“Nothing in this world is perfect.”

So far, so Neuromancer

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