Three Poems

Self-Portrait as MutantWe fear the fidgeting of GMOs, spider DNA in the corn, crab DNA in the goat milk. One by one our genesare ticking off and on, dazzling broken Christmas lights, deciding: green eyes for this baby, an extra rib for that one.Magic powers, a maybe. Born with mutations you might not see, passing for normal,…

Flaming fiddles, it looks like there’s a roadblock here! If you’d like to finish reading this piece, please buy a subscription—you’ll get access to the entire online archive of F(r)iction.