Cyber-Queen

Izzie’s Isis suspends starry eyes
transfixed to cathode strangers,
digital screaming in soap opera sex
like a gypsy moth cocooning its web.

She lays eggs in terminal baskets.

Oxegene , her pod cloned casket.

She’s a vampire sucking languages of love,
in orgasmic flashes of high voltage blood.
Could the rainbow ever love her now?
Her kaleidoscopic wings ported to
retrograde rituals of appleseed strings
and hybrid codes engorging
perl programs bleeding voltage to vein.