Factory Work

We are calloused puppets of trade
in this factory life
having been victimized.
One can hear harrowing clicks
and cries.

Stumbling in proportion to dogs fighting,
a low tonal growl.

Work begins at six AM.
as thunder fills the city.

A washing of the disabled.
Ambling like a turbine
only a bit off sync.

Wings are bitten at the shoulders.
Feet tip to the uncontrollable
sequences of reflection.

© 1984 Sonja J. Phinney