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, includingHow 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.
