Questioning the agility of her pen, she joins the conversation
Artificial heart, mechanical battery operated presented in a photo held in hand
She says, flesh is carrier of soul Remember first kisses she begs us Remember butterflies and the race of a beating heart This can't be replaced by machine
Science resolves the soul to forget we are together woven Electricity feeds this flesh of lantern
and I
For me, it's in the stomach; that is where butterflies break from cocoons and pits flame fires
