TOOLS

 

This is a chisel of precise age unknown

With handle smoother than the skin

Of a child. I have sharpened the blade

By rubbing it on stone. Feel its bite.

 

This is a wood plane given to me

By an old man who had it

From his father. Their spirits guide

My hands. Feel its weight.

 

This is a machine I bought myself

Under its skin of shiny plastic

Is an electronic brain. It can do

Almost everything. Don't go too close.

 

 

 

David Subacchi