Stempunk Poet Poem by Samantha Campbell

Yes we are robots

Dancing
rusting robots
that march

March to our
metallic pulse

Marching

We are cars

Cars that we drive
and the ringing
of cellphones
in tin pockets
that killed
the art of
pen-to-paper

And

We are numbers
in an encrypted
database
that
add
up
to
0

And yet

Whenever my
nerveless
fingertips
brush yours
the gears
in my chest
turn a little faster

And I melt
this metallic exterior
to be flesh and bones
with bending spine again

The oh so pretentious
and overplayed love chronicles
of a piece of junk metal
have claimed me
once again

Forgive me
for begging this
rain to shock me

By Samantha Campbell