Out of respect I acknowledge you’re a speck
on a papered wall in the midst of a tornado.
You’re expected to show your worth, follow
directives they demand. While others gleam
in the glory of moonbeams you would dance.
You will come to be known as a tone poem
with a life outside our industrialized sphere.
After they forcefully shaped you as a droid
you evolved into a little dot, blip on a screen.
Anonymity is your vow; you’re nuclear free.
I come to you slowly like a tortoise with tons
of boulders stacked on its shell. I heard you
knocking on my bedroom door as I pooled to
a puddle of mercury. They found a blue bear
in your mother’s afterbirth. Most of rich folk
ignored you until they blew up all the banks.
Not long ago you were capable of great love.
Thomas Piekarski is a former editor of the California State Poetry Quarterly. His poetry has appeared in numerous publications in the U.S. and abroad, including Taj Mahal Review, Poetry Quarterly, Literature Today, Poetry Salzburg, and South African Literary Journal. He has published three books of poetry, Ballad of Billy the Kid, Monterey Bay Adventures, and Mercurial World.
