if the alien invasion began with a ray gun of radiation directed right at my gut a flowering of pain in an expellant bloom i would probably assume it was a “me” problem
there is too much cross genre poetry these days like, is this confessional science fiction? is that an alien or my reflection? a distorted imagining of myself or a metaphor?
i am exhausted by this survival instinct, fear of a white cell count a balanced diet of bread there is no real escape just the black hole dive into the pages of spec-fic when the alien invasion ends i will consider myself lucky so unphased by blood in such large quantities the flowering red bloom on my bathroom floor is hardly reason to cry
Alexandra Grunberg is a Glasgow based poet, author, screenwriter, and artist. She enjoys obsessing over fictional supernatural villains, hillwalking to isolated locations, and towns that are more character than setting. Website: alexandragrunberg.weebly.com; Twitter: @alexgrunberg.