COBBLERS

COBBLERS

I cobbled together
a Mary Shelley
using some
leftovers
from the
fridge

filled her lungs
with a breath
of Romantic poetry

stuffed her brain
until it was set
to burst
with every available
microchip

and soaked her soul in
a loop-feed running of
Kubrick’s
enigmatic
masterliece

that if
this
the genre
she was put on this Earth
to bring to birth

she migjt
glean
   enpugh of a gist
for a
pure reboot

remind us
   where it
all went wrong

where it
all

returned
to the slime

sank into
slick
    death hubris