Forty years ago, I was a miracle
created in their test tube; no choice
of eye, hair or face colour.
Touch their new orchids and pollen
yellows fingers. Lift a stalk, I’d swear
it weeps sap. The one give-away
is when I pull a petal, and silk
comes loose, unbruised. Short-sighted,
I watch Extant’s sci-fi future
through the specs I need to see unblurred,
on a mobile that rests as flat and snug
in my hand as if it were my palm.
Imagine soon a robot best friend,
eyes that magnify and x-ray,
legs powered at twice-light-speed…
We could walk for miles and miles
beyond the Google-mapped globe
to anywhere invention leads us.
But how will we know the world’s end
before we reach it?
Sarah James is a prize-winning poet, fiction writer and journalist. Her latest collection is plenty-fish (Nine Arches Press, 2015) and her 2015 Overton…
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