I’ve worked in oil fields,
facing danger for good money,
I’ve sailed on the crab boats
where the oceans churn and freeze.
I’ve drove the long-haul truck,
through the ice and much up to my knees,
I’ve dug that black gold coal
so the people have light and head.
I’ve worked the power lines
and been nearly fried, yes, it’s true,
I’m an itinerant,
cannot stop and I don’t want to.
I’ve dug a soldier’s grave,
so in peace they’ll lay restfully.
I’ve laid with lonely wives,
that’s why all your kids look like me.
I’ve been a handyman,
fixing your doorjamb and windows,
I’ve worked the carney scene,
on the rides helped all the kids go.
I’ve cut in the Maine woods,
as a logger should, what a view,
I’m an itinerant,
cannot stop and I don’t want to.
I’ve worked behind the bar,
slinging beers out to tired men,
even been a crossing guard,
so children go home safe again.
I’ve swept up city streets,
to see them filthy the next way,
I’ve worked the onion fields
in the hot sun outside L.A.
I’ve done so many things,
making my money someplace new,
I’m an itinerant,
couldn’t settle and don’t want to.
I close my eyes to sleep,
When suddenly I hear
A buzzing in my bedroom –
It’s right here by my ear!
It’s over by the window –
No, it’s by me on the floor.
Now it’s quiet. Is it stopping
So I can rest? Oh, no!
That buzzing starts again.
I click the light on high,
And there’s my nemesis!
A black and greenish fly!
It’s climbing up the curtain.
My magazine is near.
I fold it in my hand –
Buzz, buzz again I hear!
Where did that nuisance go?
It’s landing on the lamp!
Ka-thwack! I hit the shade,
But the pesky thing’s decamped!
And now it’s buzzing merrily
Upon the window pane.
Another chance I get. Ka-whack!
I try for it again!
I pull away the weapon,
But there’s no fly beneath.
It’s over on the bureau!
My frustration has increased!
I see it on the doorjamb,
And quickly do my best.
I lunge and smack!! I’ve got it!
At last I’ll get some rest!
Carpentry
It’s the first nail
That hurts, the sharpness
That pierces right through the framed constructs
Of our wooden fears
With
unrelenting precision
As if we could unhurry our blood or
Hammer a dismantled dream
Into a different shape
Unfurled blueprints mark the unfinished house
Where a doorjamb is still annoyingly unaligned
Or a window frame not plumb
We call upon the carpenter ,
The one who can hold nails
In his teeth,
The one who knows
Crossbeams shudder
In the gold dust of what they must bear.
Love and admire someone
Deeply,
Build a castle with him
Brick by brick,
Paint the walls with frescoes,
Draw dreams.
Hold him
When the illness comes,
Cook him chicken broth,
Kiss his sweaty forehead,
Suction his wounds,
Puff his pillows.
Drive him to the hospital,
Listen to the whirs in the room,
Check the lines on the monitors,
Introduce yourself to every nurse
Shift after shift,
Bargain with God.
Sign “Do not resuscitate,”
Watch his chest heave,
Leave the room
When they pull out the tubes,
Come back,
Sense his heart beat
Stop.
Lay your head on his shoulder,
Memorize him,
Lie to the nurse
That you are ready
To say goodbye.
Brush your fingers across his cheek,
Press his bruised lips,
Twist your neck as you
Walk away,
Touch the cold doorjamb,
Write what you feel.
@Tess Harvester 2013
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