On the assembly line I twist screws
Screws on the assembly line twist me;
We are two screws come face-to-face in a narrow valley
Exhausting out the effort of the body
Twisting blood twisting sweat twisting sickness turned back home
But never twisting out
That original, former self.
On the assembly line each person
Is a touring screw
Puppets in a shadow play
Bodies without will waltzed round postures odd-absurd
Turning pain turning tears turning the fleeting of the years
But never turning out
The shadows of desolate poverty.
Parts processing parts
Screws never mindful of other screws
Only minding the place beneath their own feet
A dancing upon the precipice
Where a single step must not be wrong;
The slightest slip of caution
——And there is not even earth enough with which to work an awl.
Translated 2022