The Machinery Purrs

We buy machines (don’t know how they work);

we plug in devices, to service our quirks.

They hum and they light, we use them till broken;

toss them into a pit, an omen unspoken:

till a new device we implant within us

smaller and smaller, like dust inside us.

We begin to change, we click and we whir,

we think of no one–I forget about her;

she forgets me, but her machinery purrs.

When I see her again, her eyes are unlit;

like other machines we were flung in the pit.