This Machine

has no purpose, meaning
it makes its rounds
neither serving nor needing.
Others fail, feeling
pain and shame

arrest their animation:
working mothers
who can’t have children,
the pressure keeping them living

leaking, geared for higher function,
noble, though immobile.
But this is useless

perfectly – so kinesthetic,
boring! – a light on
in an empty room,
a single man
snoring.

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