The day falls
and breaks open,
shows its inner workings
of cogs and wheels.

Tiny craftsmen swarm out
from the mainspring,
scurry to resurrect the loss
but I walk on, doubtful
of their success.

Jeweled mechanical toys
inlaid in cloissone enamel
lay broken by the millions,
over countless hillsides,
sprinkled with the skeletons
of little men
who tried to make them work
beyond their time.

In childhood the magical motions
are unexpected joys.
By old age they are rote
machines of assembly line

Set the last one down
and be rid of the damn
scampering fool.


3 thoughts on “Machine

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s