To be adorable and thus worshipped
to the world’s eight corners, all-gifted and given
to hot Prometheus’ less foxy brother who said,
“I don’t mind getting hurt,” blurting it out
and smiling like he’d earned a piece of candy.
It took me ages to get over hating
the gods who made me. In the meantime, more
mundanity: humanity prospering,
blah, blah, blah. Meanwhile, they kept shoving
that thing in front of me, moving it around
the bedroom so I’d see it upon waking:
six surfaces, all containment all the time.
“Sure as metaphor’s a whore,” said E.
I flipped my lid and changed my name to Sally.