“How to Build A Human Child from Spare Parts” by Matthew Burnside

gather your parts, any old junkyard
components may vary: soft squishy
head, two coats flesh, its mother’s eyes

assemble in the school of fire

solder limbs, wind torso—tighter than
without constant pressure subject could
learn self-repair, cultivate wings, muster
flight, i.e. the systemic sin of rising

spit for blood, springs for heart valves
weld shut from the inside out

leave outside to rankle and rust

in its sleep, perform routine perforations
on its still salvageable psyche

stick plenty foreign objects in sockets

pay no attention to that fragile sticker
render obsolete all that rendered you

do no more, no less
autonomous machine
will dismantle itself

More poetry at Used Furniture.

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