by Annette C. Boehm
RAYS (7)

I spread our large bright-striped beach
        the beach, the incoming 	cool, damp
swirling girlfriends 	flopping on the sand,
        dark glassy heads protruding at all angles.
spin and tumble across the sand
        pulling themselves beyond 	Their gills
in and out for air. dance. kick
        mud on the backs of legs 	
slippery, squirmy, and quick
        pulse racing back into the  	salt
attract 	lure	They are 	oval beech leaves
        dark gray-blue sides and bellies. 

He will do anything we say. He will do nothing
until we return. The place is address five three two eight oh. 
He’ll change the place in memory to whatever we say.
Poke it and code it red. White. Blue.
This is how we control our borders.
We can choose the color of characters individually.
We can choose their background; these things 
are in the book if you go looking.
The commodore key’s a new type of control.
Easy to use, fully intuitive if
you’ve done this work before. We know you have.
No need to write your own commands;
we’ve pre-collected bundles of orders 
for you, for business, for special acts. Just insert
and turn on. He knows he is a new machine. 
Annette C. Boehm's poems have appeared in the Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, elimae, Barely South Review, the Chariton review, Hawaii Pacific Review, New Welsh Review, and others. She is a poetry reader for Memorious: A Journal of New Verse and Fiction, and has served as assistant editor for the Mississippi Review. She is a doctoral candidate at the Center for Writers, University of Southern Mississippi. Her chapbook The Five Parts of Love is available from Dancing Girl Press.