I don’t want a world without cathedrals, stained glass
on winter mornings—colors are crisper when the air
is cold. I’m lucky to have fought beside beings built
of computer code, to have been compelled to choose
what shape best captures my soul. Many never receive
such control of the universe. Still, I have prayed
in battletorn armor for a world less lost, cursed God
for trapping me between love and wisdom, camaraderie
and calls to duty, the way my mind shatters
mirrors and how I garble words, cringing at every cry
of truth. Will we ever win this war against our own
destruction? I still play the game. I am bored, the world
is burning, and there’s little else to do but play and fight,
careening through characters, controllers, and consoles.
Cass Francis is from Waxahachie, Texas and is a graduate of the Arkansas Writers MFA Program. In the fall, she will attend Texas Tech University to pursue a PhD in Media and Communication. Her poetry and prose appears or is forthcoming in The Ginger Collect, EcoTheo Review, and elsewhere. Find her on Twitter @WriterCFrancis.