Breaker Bar
Every now and then I get
the urge to lift
the simple slender breaker
bar in my hands,
Snap a socket on the square
pivot fitting
and go hunting for a big fat
frozen bolt,
one that hasn’t budged in
ages, rust bound
threads that yearn to give
held fast by a split
spiral washer, a tense
marriage of wedge
to pent up tension, for no
reason other
than to feel the sheer
unbridled joy
that comes from applying
Archimedes
Law of the Lever, set to
deliver
a stunning verdict
proclaimed with a sharp
dry crack that travels
through my hands and
arms and lights up some forgotten
arms and lights up some forgotten
constellation in a dark
and dusty
corner of my brain,
closing a circuit
that began with the simple
slender
breaker bar bequeathed but
rarely wielded,
a conjure stick to summon
you back to
throw your weight around,
tip the scales in my
favor, balanced absurdly here on
the business end.
I read this on 3quarks and would like to say that this is one excellent poem. I shared it with a friend of mine who expressed great pleasure that someone had captured this experience on paper, and he suggested that a similar poem might be devoted to the comparable, yet entirely distinct, pleasure of using an easy-out.
ReplyDelete