Tools of the Trade

 

 

Tools of the Trade

 

Chisels, spades and threads

ploughs and boots

peat forks caked with mud

are nightingales

that linger beyond their father’s

flat Midwestern tread

the anomaly I pace

of objects blown with rust

and their persistence

before I cut the limes

and count the change

fill the sinks, pump in soap

and drop in lozenges of SaniKleer

like cyanide in nitric acid

for the final rinse

light a Camel

check the crossword out

it’s quiet

one down

the sun and neon beer signs

reflected in the windows

across Aurora Street

 

Chivalry

the dignity of tools

a well worn handle

sawdust on the floor

saloon doors, porch swings

or a sincere braid

bloody Nightingales

Third Avenue and 12th Street

drag queens with five o’clock shadow

barking into beer

 

Women walking by

chins nestled in the folds

of turquoise, red and purple scarves

sunglasses with skies and flags

swimming across their waters

silver awning pipes like monkey bars

opaque windows rubbed with sun

three brown leaves turning

on these anorexic

downtown trees

no one’s coming

the knife is dull

it dents the tough rinds of old fruit

 

Though it’s all for looks

roses, vagabonds

living in the wild, charred tenements

anarchy between bites of strawberry rhubarb pie

 

The light is dancing in the sawdust

and I think of how her purple plastic necklace

hanging in my eyes is sick

with epidemic paradox

aroused

I pluck the maraschino cherries out

with two fingers

and spoon some olives in the dish

 

The white leather chair

cracked and sagging and sprouting

horse hair, springs, and burlap,

jammed in the corner by the dresser

and the red shelf nailed to the window sill

First Avenue below

brick tenements at dusk

burning, edges frayed and bright

light so thick scales of color

climbing and particulate

a mass of flames and petals

point devoured, overflowing brick