Y Ai Poem by M.J. Lemon

starting simple
one part at a time
a flopping limb
or maybe think
a femur out of socket
basic technology just a nail
or plate of metal
or in some cases a mesh
stringing stressed
flesh and
bone together.
Those long gone days
when things were simpler
Today the prize is the spongiest
so no issue over
the softest
most supple the pulpy
the grey.
Before this century ends
will the synthetic
spawn a metal orb
that has no need of
a cerebrum?
Do we then and only
then flee from
those who build life not from
cells that have passed
but from that which
is mined and refined?