after Gary Jackson

1

You’ve seen the video. Everyone has.
The nanorockets swarm in golden hour sun,
descend like a conspiracy of shrikes
towards the fallout shelter, its vault-door sundered.
I hold the gap, my silver costume shining until
millions of explosions bloom red
& orange against my body. When the smoke clears
I stand unharmed, one hand raised,
flipping the bird at the machines’ alien masters.

That’s how the world learned
my moniker isn’t a boast. In photos I’m freeing survivors
from wreckage, my too-white smile saying
you’re safe, it’s over.

Afterwards, in the darkness of my studio
I sat like a stone.

2

I worried about you from the start,
my mother says. You were so trusting, 
so open-hearted, & I thought 
the world will devour you. 
I don’t remember trust, only fear—
hot stoves & lunchroom taunts,
getting jumped on my walk home, the first girl who kissed me
calling me a dyke.
                                     Always the fear,
the world tearing at my throat.
Later, when the goddess chose me, told me
she could make me impervious to matter, energy, 
& mind, I heard the promise,
ignored the warning.

3

After that, fear couldn’t touch me. Nothing could. Mars,
red-eyed, slavering,
shattered his blade on my skin. Disintegration rays
tickled faintly. When Doctor Dementia’s psychic claws
scraped against my gray matter, he retched & fled.

The public idolized me, thinking unwoundable
meant undamaged.
Women wanted me—wanted
Impervious Woman.
For a while, that was enough. Until
they needed more. Until, under my gleaming surface
they glimpsed
                        my empty depths.

4

Last night The Immortal One wouldn’t stop. She battered
herself against me. Too late
I saw what she meant to do.
I fled
but she was faster. Relentless.
Impact upon impact.
At last her body dissipated
like a wave drawn back to sea.
We were often enemies,
sometimes allies,
                                     once lovers.
                                                                 That’s how she learned
how to end it. I stared at my hands,
unbloodied, without even
a chipped nail.
I don’t blame her.
The goddess was my way out
& I was The Immortal One’s.

5

The world will devour you: Mom’s voice
in my head. My costume is a face,
is a barrier,
is someone else.
If I set it aside, what remains? A girl,
afraid. A squawk breaks the silence:
the police radio speaks of civilians
under threat. This life hasn’t shattered me yet.
Or it did long ago.
                                      I’m out the window, a silver streak, a hero—
you know.
                         You’ve seen the video.

(Editors’ Note: “The Mighty Impervious Woman Considers Retirement” is read by Erika Ensign on the Uncanny Magazine Podcast, Episode 69A.)

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© 2026 Izzy Wasserstein