Courtesan by Deborah L. Davitt

Synthetic hair drifts over her pillow;
pleated silk drapes softly over plastic flesh—
glass eyes shine, following his every move,
as the customer approaches her bed.

Programmed to respond to human fancy,
every fantasy of men and women,
she smiles in simulated pleasure as
synthetic hair drifts over her pillow

They don’t know or care if she’s sapient;
but every one of them avoids her eyes,
focusing instead on their own pleasure, as
pleated silk drapes softly over plastic flesh.

That smooth skin belies the repairs she’d had,
hair ripped out, and dismembered limbs replaced.
It’s a victimless crime, of course, and yet,
eyes shine, following his every move

Perhaps tonight will finally be the time
she sees too much. If that’s her hope, perhaps
that’s why she doesn’t recoil from the knife
as the customer approaches her bed.


Deborah L. Davitt was raised in Reno, Nevada; she received her MA in English from Penn State, where she taught rhetoric and composition before becoming a technical writer in industries including nuclear submarines, NASA, and computer manufacturing. She currently lives in Houston, Texas, with her husband and son. For more about her writing, please see www.edda-earth.com.

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