David Huntsperger – Mechanical Fiction #4

David Huntsperger

Mechanical Fiction #4

Allegory clamors horn-toed in the mud, a pig. Shelf by shelf in the big window rebuilt                       his life’s work, carburetors, divertissement; he had said, “If you always turn off the machine                                                           you keep your fingers.” Throttle plate, undulant shapes, iron, an expanse of brown                in the trough and the sudden intake of air up throat & snout, at the big window. Intake & orifice, expulsions of air & vapor jet thru choke         circuit combustion a process of hoof & horn, the difference between pig and swine. Not good with a broom, she turns a pilot screw or two, swept into an awkward stance,                        broomhandle bangs counter, cracks doorjamb keeps carburetors clean, lift with two hands. One morning in the big window a pig, pink flecks play the valves                                                inflect mechanism and iron, the not negligible height of building, a window open         on the third floor sucks air, combustion, explodes. Hoof trailing thigh, whiskbroom.                    Cobwebs in the big window; “If you turn off the machine.”

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