A machine enters the forest.
The trees, the endorphined air as well as the birds’ circumspection
Until they start intuiting the machine’s curiosity, its
authentic verisimilitude, its making note,
they will not dare resume as usual.
Resigned to it being, in their midst.
They reorient, relate-to the significant
cause, toward the artificial, a made enormity
—a magnet in the eye, beholding
: the birds gravitate to it like migration.
The machine, discovers a memorial
to someone’s relative, arranged at the foot of a pine tree, is
attracted to it, finding itself in it somewhere
: battery operated lanterns with PIR sensors that pick
up the footsteps of the dead trudging the night, discovering
their memorial, the bits of coloured ribbon, a drinking cup
with a butterfly decorating the lip, ceramic figurines &
a perimeter of smooth white stones with a circumference of white fence
: hallowed ground made out of love, satisfied with longevity.
The relatives should never come here.
The machine will return each night
attracted by the 3W ampoule of electricity, vestige
of day—pulled energy like pulled teeth.
It will learn its own becoming.