PROTOTYPE
How it programs its moves.
Plants right foot first
always. Body of a mug with
left hand, ear with right
always. Script true.
They call this instinct,
assign each part its own
memory, an OS distinct
from our own.
I break out in hives
and against advice
scratch. I walk through rain
and wake to a cold.
I’m clumsy, trip on things
always, many things slip
from my hands. But I’ve
scraped my knees
just once in my life
and I’ve spilled more
than I’ve broken.
Always
there’s a part of us
saving us
from ourselves.
Martin Villanueva is the author of the essay collection A pig was once killed in our garage, and the poetry collections Account and This is how to mean no harm. He teaches creative writing at the Ateneo de Manila University, is the literary editor of Kritika Kultura, and is undertaking a PhD in creative writing at the Australian National University.