by Nora Weston
Cassini stares.
Reflection…
Carbon fiber, thermoplastic
skin. True, it’s
a beautiful hue, bacteria infused,
stretched upon an anthropomorphic
chassis,
boasting perfectly curved
aluminum. Appears human. Almost
circular eye sockets,
proud to own stretch polymer
pupils, will dilate
with manifested delight if they
perceive the timing is right. Articulated
spine bends with red juice,
hydraulic,
although it might as well be green.
Envious, this machine ponders how
to evolve to be…
like she. A red heart
pumping warm blood manufactured
in marrow. Oh, the beauty of stem cells.
A skull crammed with gray
matter,
that matters more than anything. Yet,
little does Cassini realize, this human
has a titanium encased
pulse generator.
Last two discs in her back,
cracked.
Cement and electrodes play nice
together. She walks, but aches
for the day her vertebrae are
mass produced. She
adores watching autumn succumb to an
icy storm, even if one eye is enhanced,
digital. Curious how
a distant mirror will reflect
identical vessels.