Number 9 in Love

by Kajol Marathe

By far the greatest danger of Artificial Intelligence is that people conclude too early that they understand it. – Eliezer Yudkowsky

Warped, I wore titanium where,
my fallacious tin ribs,
enclosed a feather-weight heart. The start –
I slept silhouetting flames in the night-sky,
called stars. Next, rummaged in garbage bins,
fell in lust with galvanised aluminium.
Steel, methyl rose.
I learnt love,
through textbooks, stolen from
the creatures with two legs,
and beating, gasping hearts.
Devoured scripture whole,
and regurgitated New Testaments,
spitting the pages, spawning
fire-flies into autumn air.
I tongued elephant juice,
to cyclists in Central Park,
who ran, aghast, clutched
their kids with mortuary grasps.
I soon fell away,
gasoline torched my metalloid frame.
When they found me they took photos,
plastered me on billboards, and
sold me for spare parts.