The Silence Killing Machine
Hear the cogs grind.
Steel tearing against steel,
A vibration rupturing calm.
Shrieking chains roll over gears,
The load threatening to break.
Pumping pistons whistle past,
Cooled only by furnace air.
Raw echoes of timings slipped,
Into disaster upon ferrous cams.
No thrill, hearing the shrill,
Of a siren hell bent,
On calling us to a stop.
Italo Calvino
Italo Calvino
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