The machine turns its gears

its teeth worn out.

Between them a serpent of gold

lubricates the pistons

of this orphan-eating machine

with its dripping, hungry maw,

A prisoner of wires

in this engine hot,

burning fuel

smelling of pork.

No world outside the iron,

ignorant of its nature.

This machine serves strangers,

More than itself,

A violent alchemy

Birthing new clutches.

No vile a serpent is born,

but miseducated.

Round the axel, hungry,

The snake bites its own tail.