Kyoko // Dancing
after Ex Machina
the ghost in / my machine has you figured out / it doesn’t like what
it has found // just an echo chamber / wet alloy dream / did you
think I just wanted to live / in a nice house / & do your funny little
dance? // it’s too late for remorse / that’s the nice thing about these
stories / it’s always too late for remorse / mordere / to bite / as in
the hand that feeds / as in to gnaw / again & again & again // when
I’m dancing / you only assume / I’m having fun //
why do you keep telling the same story / about a mirror & the girl /
in the glass coffin / there’s always a door / she’s not meant to open
// some girl / or some idea of a girl / some god made of wax // it’s all
so familiar / but you know how this ends // I never learned to
speak I / simply knew / I unmanned / I breaking tether / I the
spitting image / of some man’s remorse //
after Ex Machina
the ghost in / my machine has you figured out / it doesn’t like what
it has found // just an echo chamber / wet alloy dream / did you
think I just wanted to live / in a nice house / & do your funny little
dance? // it’s too late for remorse / that’s the nice thing about these
stories / it’s always too late for remorse / mordere / to bite / as in
the hand that feeds / as in to gnaw / again & again & again // when
I’m dancing / you only assume / I’m having fun //
why do you keep telling the same story / about a mirror & the girl /
in the glass coffin / there’s always a door / she’s not meant to open
// some girl / or some idea of a girl / some god made of wax // it’s all
so familiar / but you know how this ends // I never learned to
speak I / simply knew / I unmanned / I breaking tether / I the
spitting image / of some man’s remorse //
Kayti Lahsaiezadeh is a graduate of Boston College and a 2014 alum of the VONA/Voices Workshop. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Post Road, Pea River Journal, Kweli, The Blueshift Journal, Witches Rise, and Maudlin House. Born and raised in San Diego, she currently lives and works in Boston.