July 2, 2014

<i>July 2, 2014</i><br><br><br>


by Joseph Farley

The robots of dawn
have raised the sun
and nailed it
to the sky.

The wheels and the gears
and chains of life
are moved by engines
of muscle and steam,

iron and skin,
calcium and bone,
start the moving sidewalks
of this factory world.

Lunch pail and spare battery
clutched tight in hands,
they go to their jobs
in the blast furnaces
of the gods.

The gods smile down
on the factory floor
from a high glass window
several stories above;

check on the screens
that stream images
from cameras
of every sweating pore
and moving hinge.

Someday the work
may slow or cease,
and the base gods
depart for another
waiting world
with lower labor costs
and lower overhead.

The bones and steel
left rotting and rusting behind
may rejoice in dead silence
while seeking to conjure
green years back to life,
or will their ghosts sorrow
at the loss of years
and a way of existence.
that was no more
than cogs and gears.