Sex Machina

Against a xeroxed purity
I’m learning to say
My pleasure
Pouring one out
For narrative unity
Watching soap operas
On a stained futon
I’m learning about free will
How little I have
Nature produces automata
Opening an email from an unknown sender
The message says
I am not a spammer I exist
I experience
A digital flattening
The specter of an ex
Glitters like a sneeze
I’m here to explode the myth
That whip cream enhances anything
But I support pizza as pretext for sex
And porn as an engine of taste
Oiling the works
For silicone and holographics
Deluxe standards
Sometimes I wish I had a twin sister
To judge more fairly
Than I do myself
What I have is a desire
To name my desire
To be as close to my condition as possible

 

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Sarah Jean Grimm is the author of Soft Focus and a founding editor of Powder Keg Magazine. She edits the small press After Hours Editions, and hosts Bank Holiday, a reading series in Catskill, NY. She lives in New York City, where she works as Publicity Manager at Catapult, Soft Skull, & Counterpoint Press.

“Sex Machina” originally appeared in TLR: Feverish

CORRECTION NOTE: The print edition of “Sex Machina” has an error in the first line. This post represents the poem’s correct version.