Elena Adames Camaño

The mechanics are the same.
You can turn a music box into a metronome.
You strip some parts out and
you introduce new pieces in,
but there are the same
gears
clicking together,
pushing and grinding,
making marvels from honed and shaped
metal.

The mechanics are the same,
even if it looks different to the casual observer
who hasn’t touched the inside,
who hasn’t cracked open the diamond etched façade,
who hasn’t gotten intimate with the mainspring and escapement,
who hasn’t replaced an oscillator to preserve
functionality, who doesn’t know this same gear train once fit together
into a clock,
who hasn’t seen the complex
become simpler.

The mechanics are the same
as you shed away
the excess,
the worn,
the pieces that just aren’t necessary anymore.

Poetry South 13, 2021, pg. 47