Material
by Sarah Rose Nordgren

Read the automated transcript.

Yes, we have a soul. But it’s made of lots of tiny robots.
⏤Giulio Giorello

My soul rose up in me,
a colony I follow.
My soul has a trillion brittle wings,
a billion black bodies.
My soul formation is Stratus.
My soul’s parts know little
and don’t care whether I live or die.
Its components make a mind outside of me,
hovering over the driveway.
My soul is not waiting—
It cannot wait.
What is the sound of my soul?
Incessant clicking and chattering
like many sets of tiny, wind-up teeth.
It appears as a hurricane,
sandstorm, or soot billowing.
Its moveable parts can arrange themselves
to make a mechanical hand.
My soul pulls at my soul.
I am not responsible for my soul
for it acts independently.
I am in awe of its cities
and public works.
Its vast demolition projects.
Every seventeen years
my soul disperses after mating
and litters the road
with fat, crushed zeros.

“Material" by Sarah Rose Nordgren. Copyright © 2017, from DARWIN'S MOTHER by Sarah Rose Nordgren. Used by permission of University of Pittsburgh Press.