Tuesday, 16 November 2010

Household object.

He's a robot from Short Circuit
(I don't know why
I'm attributing sex).

My housemate brought him down
from Bristol -
he was squatted
in an old attic.

This Tomy product
used to play tapes;
now he's relegated
to the corner,
his thick eyes glazed as honey;
his claws now
underworked and

He's a cute little thing:
an Omnibot 2000
(what a grandiose name
for a creature
of 80s slapdash innocence
and stupidity).

Sometimes, one of my housemates
thinks he scans the room,
changing position;
I just think
he wants a piece of the action.

Those claws seek softness -
or maybe they just want to reek
mechanical rage
on a world
that's abandoned them
and left them
as rock fingers.

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