by Dane Hamann —
when a constellation
of gears spins
and gnashes within us?
We are strange factories
of heat and light.
Sometimes nothing
seems as fragile
as the motions
of our machinery.
Listen to the howl
of our engines.
Listen for the click
of two cogs
not quite meeting.
Time shears us cleanly
but not every force
is as forgiving.
There are hidden points
of failure within us.
Each memory of you,
I’ve made by burning
a wavering match
in front of my teeth.
I wanted to be a vessel
for fire. I wanted
to be held by your
gravity, aflame
and dying like the sun.
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