Scissors with an overbite,
blades like quotation marks
devouring the text —
some lost codex from
the Aluminum Age —
& leaving in its place
a jagged rent: massively
buck-toothed myself,
I know how elusive
a clean break can be.
Despite what orthodontists
would have us think,
a naturally straight bite
is a rare thing.
Most of us learn early
how to compensate,
squaring the circle,
holding our heads over
whatever plate, baring
our lips in the inevitable
tin grin.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Odes to Tools now in print
- Ode to a Socket Wrench
- Ode to a Claw Hammer
- Ode to a Musical Saw
- Ode to a Hand Truck
- Ode to a Shovel
- Ode to a Hatchet
- Ode to Scissors
- Ode to a Bucket
- Ode to Forks
- Ode to a Magnetic Screwdriver
- Ode to a Plumb Bob
- Ode to a House Jack
- Ode to a Measuring Tape
- Ode to Scythes
- Ode to a Plane
- Ode to a Spirit Level
- Ode to a Hoe
- Ode to Tin Snips
- Ode to a Crowbar
- Ode to a Coping Saw
- Ode to a Hive Tool
- Ode to a Compass
- Ode to a Shoehorn
- Ode to a Wire Brush
- Woodrat Podcast 2: Elizabeth Adams and “Odes to Tools”
- New Odes to Tools review by Noel Sloboda
- New review of Odes to Tools
- New review of Odes to Tools by Kathleen Kirk
- Odes to Tools as “living poetry”
- Scythes revisited
Most of us learn early how to compensate… wonderful, powerful ending.
Wow – love this!
Thanks, lissa and marja-leena. The weird thing is I actually ended up using tin snips this afternoon. It wasn’t the poem’s influence; they were the only possible tool for the job (removing some old gutters from a high roof).
Another fine addition to the list. There’s a chapbook in the making here.
Oh, this is terrific! My favorite. Except for the other ones I’ve designated my favorites. Or maybe not even them. “Some lost codex from the aluminum age” — !!!!!
I laughed out loud at “the aluminum age.” I HATE using tinsnips – always injure myself and always do a bad job cutting – makes me feel like I’m back in first grade.
Two images from the poem of snips with an overbite came to me. “Codex from the Aluminum Age “—One long ago Mother’s day my cub scout actually gave me words laboriously cut from aluminum cans nailed to a wooden plaque. It said ‘Home Oh Home’. For years I worried that our home was not sweet enough. I finally asked him. He said “Mom, there wasn’t enough room on the plaque!”.
The second was farther back when I and a 12 year old pal not realizing they were not hedge clippers “borrowed” my father’s tin snips to trim our way into a heavily vined alcove in a nearby cliff. Dad was not pleased, although I failed to see how shrubbery could “ruin” something meant for metal. Anyway, grindstone to the rescue where “A gleaming new moon would rise from century-old rust.”. (and some pollen)
Thanks, all.
sarah b – “makes me feel like I’m back in first grade” – I agree. They’re pretty much designed for hack jobs, though, that’s the thing.
Joan – Those are great stories; thanks. Interesting that both involve children, given Sarah’s observation.
I’d love a plaque like that – it’s so much more poetic than “home sweet home”!