I am a tangle of wires

I am a tangle of wires,

copper veins passing

1s and 0s to my drives,

operating hacked OS.

I'm made of stolen parts

and pirated ideas.

My hands are

lifted from the dead.

 

I built a raft from limbs,

crawled the sewers

on the backs of men

and children who wronged

me but left women

like bread crumbs,

climb them back

like a ladder home.

 

But I can't slither

to a surface meant for meat.

My body hums,

my only tell—

Despite this suit,

despite how I learned 

to talk just like

the surface meat.


 

 poem written by Tish Markley (December 2017)