Sarah Nichols

Body/Instrument: Dolores

After Westworld

 

I was a
dismembered machine
with a
faint smile.

 

Glass embroidered, a
painted wound of coils. The

 

unreality of a
collision.

 

My body
playing back the scars of
terminal fantasies; the lacework of

 

codes and engines.

Entirely new.

 

Source: Ballard, J.G. Crash. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1973. Print.

 

 

 

Body/Instrument: Pris

After Blade Runner

 

I’m a fantasy imprinted with
scars. Glowing,

 

re-sectioned, every

 

detail a tender assassination.

 

A ritual of a
new technology. Sex and
collision. A circuit,

 

a movement, a glass body

 

immaculate. A gasp of

 

metal,

 

complete.

 

Source: Ballard, J.G. Crash. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1973. Print.

 

 

Body/Instrument: Rachael

After Blade Runner

 

My eyes My
body

 

all fiberglass
all instrument panel
all haunted

 

re-worked to a dream of
technicians, the imprint of

 

futures

 

I remember. An electric

 

creature in the abandoned

 

world.

 

Source: Ballard, J.G. Crash. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1973. Print.

 

 

 

 

Sarah Nichols lives and writes in Connecticut. She is the author of several chapbooks, including
How Darkness Enters a Body (Porkbelly Press, 2018), and Dreamland for Keeps (Porkbelly Press, forthcoming, 2018). Her poems and essays have also been published in Memoir Mixtapes, FreezeRay, and Rogue Agent.