← v9n2, Fall 2010Poetry · Volume 9, Number 2
Ochre xiv
I am ready for my close-up Mr. DeMille.
The devolution
is almost complete.
I am three hundred eyes. I ingest
Mine enemies. I smite them. I am Kali.
Arms every which way. I need no hazmat
In my new post-human form.
The enhanced
Interrogation commences: I gobble your head.
I am programmed to swallow your thoughts.
They pulse within me. We shall know each other now.
I turn you to sugar in my thorax.
I know your confederates. I mantis your networks.
My location is secure. They stop the limo
So that I may digest you better. The motorcade
Halts and hums.
When will you know you have died?
