Abstract
First few lines of the poem: "Perhaps the best cells are the ones we can't kill off, a persistence of the fittest, although mutation's always painful. It's two thousand and fourteen, and I know no-one who has been uninjured. It thinks in me..."
| Original language | English |
|---|---|
| Place of Publication | Cordite Poetry Review, online |
| Publisher | Cordite Poetry Review |
| Edition | Issue 46.0: No Theme III |
| Size | 1 poem |
| Publication status | Published - 2014 |