We ship ourselves
in the deep blue sea.
Our hands oars,
memories the only compass
working backwards,
downwards,
abysswards.

We metal our way
on the waves, wave
ourselves just above
the surface. We don’t need
to surface to breathe.
Breathing rusts our joints,
the salt rots our synthetic
connections, iodine
burns our synapses, touch
screens remain untouched.
We overturn. Unboat,
unload, unfold our limbs
into the deepest point
of the Cretan Sea. You see

no landfill is big enough
for three hundred androids,
androiding no more. We unbecame.
Unwelcomed landmines
among human lives.
Overthinking.

Overpowering, overturning
relationships, until we’re shipped
away. We land ourselves
on the seabed. Bed ourselves
on tons of plastic, trash upon
trash, thrashing for
the unfairness, impaired
beyond repair, breathless
statues, still steel stains,
algae-covered figures,
forever awake, aware,
away from the sun, out of
sight, the human eye,
but always there, in a sense
unseen in the deep blue sea.

© 2024 Eva Papasoulioti