Count them: 32 gears turning an apparatus with the clockwork
as if arms and legs
weren’t first made of marrow
or the cut of spurs and teeth
engendered no withdraw.
of drive pin and fence,
wheel flies and drive cam spindling.
A locksmith listens intent on combinations—
whose pints of gibberish
before the barkeep translate each genuflection
of elbow and forearm into an out-and-out addiction with alignment;
Summons with a bit of wrist torque,
then click-clack restages the moon:
Venus, Jupiter, & Mars soon
As above, so below.
Marks the ascendant
star as an artifact
of some luminary tattletale;
who recalls the Greek before
(not after) its salt bath as little more than axioms:
oracle minus cog,
foster-child of Silence and slow Time;
now with a portent more
like fluid—like fish shifting on an always deepening diurnal tide.
First published in the November issue of decomP (2010)