Mr Mellon Puts On His Fingers

 
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by Matthew Sanborn Smith

 

See him slide into his fingers

Two-thousand knuckles crack

Like a god his ego towers

The universe, now smaller, cowers

As it should; its Master’s back

 

Cry, the unfortunately fingered

For piano they must settle

While he plays upon its matter

Grabs electrons as they scatter

And turns the air itself to metal

 

Those digits find a parasite

Its DNA perceived

Leeching hosts of mice and men

He massages genes within

It now gives where once received

 

Five by five by five by five

Those little fingers toss

On whipping tips flagella flail

Like a ripping typhoon sail

On a ship whose ocean’s lost

 

Now he rests with head in hands

Smiles from ear to ear

All his work he now inspects

His facial cells he now defects

But won’t feel the damage for years

 


Matthew Sanborn Smith is 35 and lives in Florida with his wife and two kids.  He has been a very, very part-time writer for a long, long time and a too, too full-time retail monkey for a slightly, slightly shorter time.  You can see more of his stuff (not as bad as it sounds) at <http://www.geocities.com/exciteyourmind2000/>.


AntipodeanSF is always on the lookout for short features and articles slanted towards the speculative. Don't be afraid to "'ave a go..."

 

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