one day this apparatus will feel no pain

heavyweight macrame on disquieted shoulders

gathering pebbles, creating boulders

this is life in a flash:

the birth of the universe

before the preferred measurement of time became age

we began to wonder,

and the Angels sang a funeral dirge:

“pain on pain on pain”

tell me all about your Octobers

and my body will be there

the chill of Mother’s breath

straightening my spine

raised flesh reminding me that i am not yet dead

only turning brown, orange, and red

you held my hand that day

i told you i loved you

and your weeping sogged my shirt

for you then had something new to lose

the machine ticks along

spirit wattage flickering and fading.

anima and animus, combined,

the same

one day this rusted apparatus will feel no pain 

who am i to want in vain?

any obsolete mecha,

a pile of rubbish and shame.

one day this soft apparatus will feel no pain