Two teeth peeking
Out of his little mouth
As mine weaken
In my cavern of howling,
Echoing from the
Wrecked levels of old age
Whilst his kingdom is
The sinecure of youth’s stage;
Baby waves carrying
Him from his slot sided cot
To the barriers in the
Harbour of our Camelot,
Further from myth
And more readable
By the light of his
Eyes in evening’s lull.
A real world incursion
Of our cyber lives
Turned our new versions
Into merchandise;
Incapable of simple tasks
Without instructions,
Or the collection of facts
With actual functions.
He’s already got himself
A heartlist of lovers
Lined up to be shelved
And left up above;
A hit list of us ready
To bust out of the
Modern headspace
We’ve endowed.
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