Hardware

                                        Sullen and certain

As minor royalty rusticated to this

Unhelpful climate of solvents, gaskets, pliers, and bolts.

Because they are new and manifold and useful

You feel their whispers against you. The staunch

Resistance of objects. How can I tell you

                                           O my soul,

To exhaust the realm of the possible when

                                  Ever the light

Is uncongenial as February and your hand unlovely?

Like a dog nearly annihilated by nerves

And boredom chewing her paw to sore, red velvet,

You’ve torn your nails so far flesh swells

Closed around each bed like an eyeless socket.

That you should be making such small change!

Fingers inarticulate as moles nudge a debris

Of dimes not thick enough to hide

The candy-colored butterfly flaring

Across the tender, veined delta of your hand

Heralding indelibly the eviction

                           Of this vulgar flesh

Or the one word needled in black, knuckle-Gothic

                                             R a p t u r e