future primitive

melted ore from the earth

twisted

shaped

cooled

into the vortex of the material coil

to be born

back onto the land

the black afterbirth of the mother

lubricating

your veins

and yet

your senses will never stand to attention off your metal skin

as you pass over the sacred places

the fathers just couldn’t place in you

a soul

or find a copy of the Earth Mother’s,

the optional extras can only carry you from here

and save you, your identity

hungry across the land

chewing

tearing

screaming

as the fathers continue to copulate

and pour from the factories

more

and more

of your siblings

that are the new flesh of the earth:

the reinvention of the wheel

the Earth Mother’s lot, the vicious circle