06/10/2023
Nothing pollutes
absolutely,
corrupting
takes hold
only just,
bit by bit
like oxidizing
widgets.
Old bonds
use screws
that twist,
not unlike
pax machina--
ghosts grinding
in the gears.
What's left after
flesh and metal?
Once ancient threads
unspool like
something
dated and
serene.
We're left
on the banks
of river Pax,
dragging palms
in sediment,
yearning for
sublime.