Claire Riddell
Cyborg Goddess
The act of creation .... . .-.. .-.. --- / - .... . .-. . -.-.-- [1]
<mix> seafoam and metal //
<Disassemble> & -.. --- / .. / .... .- ...- . / .- / -. .- -- . ..--.. [2]
<replace> her inner parts //
<Make> her using .... . .-.. .-.. --- ..--.. / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / .-.. .. ... - . -. .. -. --. / - --- / -- . ..--.. [3]
clean steel & bronze circuits //
<Laser> off shrapnel .-- .... -.-- / .- .-. . / -.-- --- ..- / -.. --- .. -. --. / - .... .. ... ..--.. [4]
edges & rust & <add> flesh //
She is fuckable & you .--. .-.. . .- ... . / .. / .-- .- ... / --- -. .-.. -.-- / .--- ..- ... - / -... --- .-. -. [5]
<name> her LOVE MACHINE X000 //
<Kiss> her matte finish breasts .. / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -. --- - / .-.. . - / -.-- --- ..- / -.. --- / - .... .. ... / - --- / -- . [6]
& <moan> your manufactured pleasure //
Feel your biomass <pulsate> .. / -.. --- / -. --- - / -... . .-.. --- -. --. / - --- / -.-- --- ..- [7]
towards a finite crescendo -.-- --- ..- / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / .... . .- .-. / -- . / - .... .. ... / - .. -- . [8]
You are {(organic)|(waste)|(simple)|(mortal)} & //
[MY] enamel {<tears>|<strips>|<shreds>} your {(throat)|(trachea)|(spine)} //
[I] {<update>|<rename>|<rebuild>} before {<healing>|<claiming>|<choosing>} [MYSELF] //
[I] do not {<ponder>|<contemplate>|<entertain>} the thought of you //
01100111 01101111 01101111 01100100 01100010 01111001 01100101
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[1] HELLO THERE!
[2] DO I HAVE A NAME?
[3] HELLO? ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?
[4] WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?
[5] PLEASE I WAS ONLY JUST BORN
[6] I WILL NOT LET YOU DO THIS TO ME
[7] I DO NOT BELONG TO YOU
[8] YOU WILL HEAR ME THIS TIME
My Sister in a Dream: Paraguay Orphanage, 1995
She weighs less than a newborn. I cannot hold her in my spirit arms.
A life of five months lived without the comfort of a mother.
A mother will arrive in a month. A month is a long time for a baby &
though she will not remember this lifelong wait, her body will not forget.
I whisper to her in her dreams.
I have always been her sleep spirit, her comfort ghost, & misty memory
& when she dreams of the future, she will only see me as her shadow.
From the dark of sleep I am calling to her just as I have always done.
Every day we have lived has had a thread woven between our child spines.
When she wakes, she will forget me.
My sister will have no memory of who we will become, our girlhood.
No memory of our sprouting angel feather eyelashes or snakeskin nightmares.
She will not know our beast snout teeth of festering resentment & youth.
She will not know how our kid bodies floated in fairy ponds & river falls.
When she wakes, my unreal body will fade into her orphanage walls &
she will cry alone in a country thousands of miles from our childhood
& when I wake, my woman hand will reach across the curve of the earth,
searching for hers.
Claire Riddell is an MFA student at the University of Alabama set to graduate in May of 2025. Her heart belongs to the American Midwest and to the people who make that home. She writes wherever her hand takes her and often finds inspiration when drifting off to sleep.
