Cyborg Skin

From the egg-like membrane
of her head
to the crescent-mooned toes
on her feet,
her skin was yielding
and not synthetic;
soft and warm,
it responded to my touch.

She was programmed
to be forever childlike
but she possessed
an adult logic,
a precociousness
lacking innocence,
as if she knew my every thought;

a hint of malevolence
behind eyes so blue and enthusiastic
disguised by her childish smile.

No babies for would-be single mothers,
broody women in a world without fathers,
nothing to remind those left behind
what it’s like to create humankind;

just the maternal feeling that blooms from within
when caressing your adopted child’s cyborg skin.