[Max Goodman]

Machine

A child, I felt
a danger dwelt
chest-deep. My heart.
Could that odd part
keep up its work
and never shirk
or tire or just
forget? To trust
my life to this...
So tenuous!

But now, although
death’s closer, no
such fear. I’ve seen
what a machine
I am. My ways
don’t change. All stays
as it has been
because, within,
my pulses keep
their rhythms. Deep
they’re fixed. No whim
could alter them.
And so I do
the things I do
unstintingly,
unthinkingly,
unfruitfully,
consistency
no trick, no sham.
It’s what I am.

I’ve other fears
as darkness nears;
my heart’s not one.
That doubt is done.
The heart’s a pump.
Pumps pump.
Pumps pump.

*

previous version:

My Time

[first lines unchanged]

my life to this
seemed tenuous.

But now, although
death’s closer, no
such fear. I’ve seen
what a machine
I am. I do
the things I do,
spend my scarce time
as though my prime
approached. I go
the way I know
unthinkingly,
consistency
no trick, no sham.
It’s what I am.

I’ve other fears
as darkness nears;
my heart’s not one.
That doubt is done.
My heart is me.
Its constancy
is nothing strange.
We do not change.

The heart’s a pump.
Pumps pump.
Pumps pump.