Katarzya Borun-Jagodzinska

translated by Karen Kovacik

Against Descartes

The screaming of an animal in pain is like the chiming of a clock.


This little machine has stalled.

It shrieks,

wound tight for the final time

with the aid

of a needle, a vial.

It's knee deep in pellets.

The syringe to its oilcan is dry.


Sometimes death appears like a buzzard.

Or a worm.

But this death is rust.


This little calico machine has stalled.

I tilt my ear to the silky panel over its gears

to check if they still tick.

Or if I now can lay it to rest.



from the Polish


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