I awake after a long, long sleep. the sunlight streaming through the window is soft. I am vertical, hanging from a wall, like a picture frame. my mother hovers near. she sold me to scientists. they severed my head from my body and reconnect it to a circuit board, in the shape of a harpsichord, like orpheus. they toy with me. she is curious of their designs, she asks them questions. she wants to discover my secrets. she thinks she is one of them, a scientist. she doesn't notice I am awake. the last thing I remember is that it was spring and now it is fall. I ask my mother what year it is. she turns her head and tells me it's been ten years. I am angry she let me sleep so long.

© 1990 - 2003 Katharina Woodworth