Issue Three

Spring 2012


The Engineer’s Child

As if his measurements, in precision,
could create life’s simulacrum; with steel,
with brass, in billowed steam, but it would rise
as if awakening.  This science was

his alchemy of parts, of creased blueprints,
and of equations.  Engineered, it spoke
to him; wordless, though he knew it uttered,
Father.  At night, when metal ground so hot

on metal that it blushed as maidens might,
he sometimes felt the burn of lambent eyes
against his skin, shuddering in his bed

as he imagined love that grew without
an instinct or a soul.  It loomed above
him as he lay awake, a monolith.




Philip Kane

silver fractal