I’ll Be Your Massive Arms (Translation of Ineptus, 2nd Century B.C.E. Alexandrian Poet)

I’ll be your
massive arms,
but where is your emergency?

where are your costumes?
where is your can of venison?

are you on a
space station that orbited the Earth
(as it was created)
out in the
starry blackness?

your face is like moist, unearthed clay?
you forget the practical use of eyes?

you think you are
the first race in the history of the universe to
cat whiskers
eight hours a day?

if you want to get rid of
an unfresh odor,
do not ask for
anagrams of “troubled waters”

if you want to change
the radiator,
do not sit there
tuning your guitar

and if you want to grab the treasures
that lie in small, narrow spaces
do not ask for
massive arms!

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