not a mechanical animal

he became aware of them
before he could fully sense them
blinded among glittering gardens of mirroring butterflies
suspended among tangled wires and loose clamps

this is not supposed to be his body
and he has a faint feeling that there are memories missing
little craters where rocks should have been
holes in the decorating on a birthday cake

tarnished silver and iron plates
slowly being restored to their former glory
Fibonacci wings and tiny little joints
stolen from a decade’s worth of refuse

life is supposed to start in darkness and dirty and wet
but this life starts in chemical dryness
and sterile gloves
and blinding lights from below

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