and
Three Translated Takako Arai Poems

1 August 2017

Mechanimism

crankrankrankrankrank
around the silk mill runs
a god,
stark naked, canines looming—

        whether we weave the material
        or buy it
        we produce, consume, expend—
        no—
        there’s something deeper:
        what’s vanished,
                what was made to vanish—
        we stopped walking naked, yes?
        put on the animal’s skin
        & sang, danced, worshipped its severed head,
        the material woven,
        the roots of the downy hair
        reeking
        with the breath of what’s buried—

crankrankrankrankrank
around the silk mill
on four legs,
furry, sticky, horny-nosed,

it gobbles up
gulp!
the mill women
who spit the thread—

get out of here!


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