With a flick and a spin the spindle spits
The marble clean along the track
And mirrored metal guides the ball
Through fly-wheels geared to increase speed
And floating corners banked to feed
That pinball hurtling back.
Through a tunnel into the light
Of a flamboyant heretical chef,
With utensils used in unknown ways
Under a grater into a sieve
Where it spirals round and shoots out with
The bass whirl of a clef.
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