The Plenthorum

Deep in the plenthorum,
from sunset to sunrise,
she tracks the twelve moons
through the Splendorian skies.

Muscraveres sweep the hollow
swarming between roots and broadleafs,
with rotating knobs throbbing a fiendish red.
Heat signatures of the carbon based life forms
scatter before them like fireflies,
like flying fish before a plowing prow.

My lover, Lacunae,
takes up a mignon’s position
hidden deep within a terrible civilization.
Between the Grigorium’s ocular opening and shutdown,
she monitors the aggression sensors
to earn extra money.

In 2513, much of our personal life is outsourced
through bundled fiberops to the Clepostrum,
where it is managed by supernumeraries to decrease volatilities.
Unease is monitored. Microaggressions are tabulated.

Cyberenhancements can misshape the bell curve quickly.
Already, wealthy men using biodensers
are promising Eros
far beyond normal human capability
greatly disturbing the women.

***

Carl Nelson lives in a small river town in Ohio with his wife, son and dog, where he moseys about, reads, drinks beer and tries to capture interesting thoughts in a poem.

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