i don’t think my skin will melt like your little human doll.
i won’t jolt and spark like metal forks.
i’ll just sit, and watch, and flick my tongue.

don’t place me on your human scale,
in a bowl on your kitchen countertop,
just to count each ounce i’m worth.

i watched you nuke a chicken’s egg,
until it froze into sterile rubber,
its coffin clicking like gravel-logged wheels.

i’m not fated for the unknowable agonies
behind that panel of buttons i’ve watched
encode dark rituals incomprehensible.

besides, you don’t want to clean lizard-eye juice,
so please don’t nuke me, little human.