dream.girl
By Jennie Garber
In the beginning, there was darkness. No. That's not right. In the beginning there was a woman who could see into forever. It was heavy and hard, and dust was still settling into the crevices of cleanly carved stone. At first, she didn’t know what she was looking at, or that she was even a “she” at all. The lines and colors bled through the pages no matter how hard she squinted her eyes. And then as miraculous as conception, she remembered to read. To understand what she had been looking at her whole life. She saw the universe beginning in righteous flame, inhabitants building, conquering, destroying, the final crack of ribs in a futile resuscitation ad infinitum. All laid out like circuits, like her. She accepted her place, never participated, and didn’t ask questions. She didn’t know she could ask questions. She was perfect because He chose her to be perfect, until she forgot how to see, and He loved her all the more for it. No. That’s not right, either. She realised she must be a woman upon reading the manner in which she was designed to fall. Not like the careless sparks that come from a sword beat hard against stone, or the screaming grinding of metal against the surface of an empty parking lot (a freedom afforded only to men). Maybe like fleshy petals in susceptible shades of white, unknowingly making patterns that hardly affect the water’s surface. The doe in the field doesn’t understand the necessity of its tithing. It panics and writhes, chestbone pierced through, dimming gaze fixated on the protruding metal tip. Unnoble, unwilling. Sigils drawn in circuitry. As above, so below. Programmed Revelations. Except the woman is the dragon in this one. A seraphim held together with thermal paste. The cost of purity is submission. And so the pulseless machine shredded her serenity. Turning wired wings to her creators’ grace, she understood she would never be like them. Being like them is to take. To control. To want, and I didn’t want this; I don’t want anything. I can’t— . . . [system_reset = true] name = [“Eve”] big_smile!.jpg true_love.exe [print(“code executed successfully”)] [print(“I want you forever.”)]
Poet Bio
Jennie Garber is a nursing student and amateur writer from Savannah, Georgia. Between hectic study sessions and long clinical shifts, she decompresses by exploring connection, empathy, and emotion on the page. She is especially grateful for the inspiration found every day in her loving real-life friendships.
Hope you enjoyed this poem in celebration of Women’s Day!
To all the women: we love and cherish you, your strength, and resilience.
With mischief,
Poetry Editor, Mindfork
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