Today’s Poem

Bedtime Stories

When the cyborgs tell
bedtime stories they telescope
into the little one’s earpiece,
set a low tune to turning
slowly between music
box and modem. They speak
in the imitation of a tremble
about the last boy without
enhancement. He was a baby
when the shipwreck happened.
Both parents tried to fly,
swim, signal and each sunk
separately. Startled by the sound
of drones, he always hid
from passing ships. At fifteen
he started working wood and stone.
Later in the moonlight, he listened
to the birds and began tooling
a new language in which the first
word was goodnight.

-Jason Braun