MiPo Poetry Board Best of 2002

Why I Stay Married to You

Every night for seven days
we sit beside one another,
thighs and minds conjoined,
to play Parasite Eve .

You are the hands that move
the body, fingertaps translated
by wires and code to electrons
beamed to a phosphorescent screen.
jump kick run shoot

Together we are the mind,
navigating Aya, our heroine,
through twists of plot,
past people-eating dogs
and dinosaurs with recombinant DNA.

We rock and weave in our seats,
in accompaniment
to the machine-gun rhythm
of Aya's digital ballet.

Our decision to use the M9
over the Micro-UZ leaves Aya
stunned on the ground
as Eve sucks away her lifeforce.

We have become Aya,
her breath leaks from our lungs
in radiator hisses.
The antidote is a cocktail
of buttons; resurrection.

Our Day 7 is her Day 6;
we have made it to "Liberation"
to face the last enemy.
It is not Eve, our tormentor,

but a mutant baby,
newly emerged from Eve's womb.
You aim the gun with Aya's hands
right above the oversized eyes
on its semi-human head.

It's scrunched-up expression
and newborn cries of anger
so familiar
stall your trigger finger.

You press a button, neutralize
electrons and phosphor
instead of the baby.
And we never finish Parasite Eve .

IBPC
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