Singer, French for to ape. The mechanical choir replicated
across the globe, from New York to Vienna, from Java
to the ends of the earth. Imitation ensembles springing up
in the wake of every tour – proof of a universal music!

Sceptics insisted its success was only commercial, said
it was the market, not art, suturing together the tatters
of our states. Philistines, unbelievers, you’ve never
stood before these glorious rows of seamstresses!

Tut-tut-tut, listen to their stuttering
mouths, their hemming and
hawing, the morse of their
needles, song of dead time
in fugue.