Mary Buchinger
In the language of her childhood and church,
a language I have not learned, Jäger Bucher’s poem:
“Eine Verbrauchte Maschine.” She tells me it means
“A Used-Up Machine” and translates as she reads,
slow, with many hesitations, her voice strained:
“Oil leaking, rusty…sides, still it drives on through,
jede Schicht…Das leise Keuchen, with every move
that quiet scratching, groaning, eine Gewohnheit,
and actually, alles Erfahrung, it’s just normal.
Gelernt hat sie, daß eine Maschine nicht klagt,
she’s learned a machine does not complain,
complaints give more problems,” my mother
laughs quietly, then continues, “it’s harder, more
difficult to make things right, kommt sie mit neuen,
when then the new, uh, new inventions come,
da wird es ernst, what shall we do, it’s serious!
Schon wieder tritt Õl aus, it’s out of oil again,
and new things are crowding in on her,
the machine knows she is good and smart,
she knows she cannot help herself,
something new is going to take her place.”
My mother looks up from the page,
“The machine feels things.”
Mary Buchinger, author of eight poetry collections, including There Is Only the Sacred and the Desecrated (2026, Paul Nemser Book Prize Honorable Mention), Navigating the Reach (2024 Massachusetts Book Award Honors), teaches at the Massachusetts College of Pharmacy and Health Sciences. Her poetry appears in AGNI, Laurel Review, Nimrod, On the Seawall, Plume, Salt Hill, Seneca Review, and elsewhere. www.MaryBuchinger.com