Net Generation

The Heart pumps blue

and green and magenta

balls of all sizes;

the valves splurt sparkles.

The muscle works electrified

the spasm aches its lover.

How wild a cage of bone to hold

the strongest part.

And in the night,

before dial up

when the phone cord grows back


when the curling reminder leads

to every mother’s room

the womb shuts itself up

and dries like a locust in desert.

The baby boomers’ babies

look like everyone else

always walking in arms

with new lovers.

When did women start wearing garter belts

to war?

Who’s little body was meant to

machine gun the enemy

into calling them back?

The cords have been cut.

Everything is i

and photographs on phones unlock

infinities of small possibilities;

the back can only arch

so far.

When did men start wearing

women as shields to hide from honor?

The heart beats infinity,

the valves are sputtering

hold me.

Videomakers run the world

on the hips of lovelusted

preteen girls.

The Heart pumps an angry father’s fist

and sputters sparkles the spark

of infinity.

To say we were meant for

a life lived off screen

makes the shaky hands of

grown down boys curl limply.

What lion roars

at the foot of the godless goddess?

Who sold her womb for a waistline

small as a newborn?

The Heart pumps a rhythm in sync

with the hips

the valves drink gold dust

from inside.

The strongest part enclosed

in human,

caresses the cage;

murmurs hold me.

The revolution will not

be a status update;

the beast will be crushed

by bare feet.


About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in Poetry, Summer and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Net Generation

  1. Zachary says:

    Your imagination always grips me.

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