Poetry from The Literary Review
Two Machines
Ilona Karmel
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That girl there running the machine— What’s wrong with her? Where has her life gone? Nowhere. Has her spirit split too? And her heart? She’s as stiff as a rake With blisters on her hands and feet. And her what? Empty. Repeat, repeat. Work like this Is one long reiteration. The hours are crushed Until they hurt From her gears ramming into them. Sometimes the gears sound like laughter. Their mockery kills her memory Until she has to drag A void around. And as if that’s not bad enough An echo calls her back to work And back to work she goes. Translated from the Polish by Fanny Howe and Arie Galles Editor’s Note: Translated poems are forthcoming from the Princeton University Press. |
