The Mechanical Eves
       

Oh, man has made her—
mechanical Eves have been around
for thousands of years,
fetching your tea, serving
you wine: the early "female"
automatons didn't have a mind,
were built from the ribs
of men's brains, from their longing
to be gods and make a life
like a woman could.
Oh, man has made her! Oh, man
has made her, and she is uncanny (and
infertile!)—and still, she
must be destroyed, like when
a captain threw Descartes's "daughter"
to sea or how Edison's talking girls
were rumored to be buried alive
by the thousands. Dig one up and she
will say the Lord's Prayer, a nursery
rhyme—she won't speak her own mind.
Oh, man has made her in his own image
for beauty and service, oh, man has
made her a more pliable Eve
with no desire of her own.
Sold her online for $xxx.99.
Given her a hollowness of the body,
a phonograph for a heart.

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Copyright © 2021 Rebecca Morgan Frank All rights reserved
from The Southern Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission