Love In The Robopocalypse

If you and I were transported
to a land where robot overlords
enslaved the human race,
I wouldn’t worry;
all we’d have to do is run,
ducking in and out of
crumbled shopping malls
and parking decks full of
abandoned cars, together,
uninhibited, free.
So what if they have buzz-saws
and optical laser beams?
If we get caught, just kiss me:
your every kiss is
an electromagnetic pulse,
a white-blue crackling shockwave
and our kisses will overload
every tiny circuit in their
cold positronic hearts;
they’ll fall like broken toys
under the smell of burnt ozone
and fresh love blooming.

This poem was originally published under the pen name Gabriel Gadfly.

-- Adam Kamerer

Hazmat

Pulling your naked body out
of the Vegas rubble, I learned
something about radiation:
fickle death doesn’t always
blister or glow. Sometimes it
preserves things exactly as
I remember them: pale-lipped,
black hair streaming across my
shoulder, your body curled in
my arms, only sleeping.
I want to tear this mask off
and breathe one last gasp
of you, I want to press my
face against your poisonous
flesh, I want to touch you
like I touched you before the
horizon forgot how to go dark.

This poem was originally published under the pen name Gabriel Gadfly.

-- Adam Kamerer