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by Angela Thomastwo steel frames running parallel between
massive wheels turning, churning, a blazing
chrome fender cutting through the night
sky as the beams bend, bow under enormous
weight, unable to break. raw materials, trees
that birds lived in, lovers shaded under, plants
took refuge from the summer sun, stacked
high, teetering with each jag in the road.
unable to snap, the machine just kept on
working. the space cut sharply between wood
and air. a fact carving it's way up, the stronger
the material the heavier the load. but i wonder
if at night when it's quiet and the world seems still,
i wonder if, then, finally, the rebar cries softly.
03/01/2011 Posted on 03/02/2011
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
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