Content warning:
“Machinist Hands” © 2022 by Garden
She has a body like a needle and a voice like radio static.
She weaves: In-out fabric, intricate sighs through overlapping small talk.
Metallurgy could fight the giants
We’ve evolved beyond ourselves
The delicate shelves of silky thread
Colorful
Colorful
Drab world
Drab world
The seamstress of the small shop threads her fear of discovery in a fabric-filled anguish. Her clanking, snipping design is knotted tight.
Their veins are rivers of mercury
Did you hear the bells yesterday?
Like a wedding, but a war
They’re like banshees
She pulls her glove over to hide her silver, her metal bones. She echoes a falsehood in her lone, rusty voice:
They have corpse’s dead hair
Impossible
Drab world
Drab world