These men grease, torch, drill, and jigsaw
the ferry engines back to life
so that the world might again run on time.
Diamonds in rough boots and grubby life jackets,
they preserve for us the jeweled movement
of appearances.
I mumble greetings each morning
in the early darkness – 5, 5:30
as they drift from their cars to the docks
and they mumble back
as if we both know they are not to be seen
or their world acknowledged.
An arc weld for sunrise.
Below decks,
hungry motors growl.
Miz Quickly
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I’ve read this several times now. You are so gifted. This is an incredible piece.
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You are too kind; glad you enjoyed it. I thought maybe get more concrete after the last run of abstraction!
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The important work of those unseen…
You bring them to light with honor.
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