When I Scan

They are in bottles. Affection and attention are the preservatives. When the bottles open, they suddenly overflow like the salted soda. When I scan their world in Time’s womb……… finger tips toppling the governments, peace burning under the bombers, smiles dying on the lips, morality walking with Alzheimer’s, robots reaping on the terrace, cars flying in the air, tourists charting to the Mars, nostrils opening before the screen, wounds widening on the Earth’s scalp, seasons disobeying the calendar, sea swallowing the island kids…… Children, I see strange embryos growing.