Poems and Poetry

Artificial (1) | A Poem by JD DeHart

Their sound brought to mind
the ticking of a clock, their
voice and cackle the thought
of a toaster oven. They are
regulated, skin-thin beings,
and have rarely shown what
truly lies beneath. Thought I
sit in their space, breathe
their medical breath, I have yet
to know their true names.

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