Daryl Gregory, Writer Guy

A Joe Anatomy, in Haiku.

Hair, lifelike still. Even evergreen needles fall in their season. Blue, painted open. Dreaming of the cool darkness. Oh, to blink. To close. The cord is broken. The bright hole keeps its secrets. The chest is silent. He arrives pre-scarred. Factory-setting battles lost before they start. His hands rest unseen. Gripping still, loosely, loosely. Kung fu for the soul.

(Hover. Hover.)