I put on my stripey socks,
a bra the colour of sunshine
and undies that aren’t sexy but
are my favourite boy-leg cut.
Choose faded black jeans
and the grey doc martens I bought
back at uni. My daughter’s been
too long in the bathroom, a simulation
of progress through morning routine—
NPCs don’t sneeze!
passes me a tissue—we still
have autonomy somehow.
Still can rage against the machine.
Never did bring that bastard down,
it’s still him against us—
even with three generations of apocalyptic
natives tinkering with the algorithm.
We’re more alike than not, me and this kid
with buried pronoun preferences
and grunge hair. Countercultural,
us. Bulletproof hearts seeking chemical
romance and a bonfire. Grab a hoody
and a pack of stolen marshmallows.
Wait through the load screen and
enter the open world.
Kathryn Reese lives in South Australia. She works in medical science. Her writing explores themes of nature, myth and the possibility of shape shift. Her poems are published in Neoperennial Press Heroines Anthology, Paperbark, Hayden’s Ferry Review and Yellow Arrow Journal. Her flash fiction "The Principal and the Sea," was published by Glassworks and received a Best of the Net nomination.