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MM.12:134GRAHAM CATT
The Pin
I stand half-in
half-out of the house
bearing the weight
of this washing machine
while the mechanic's
delicate fingers probe
at pipes, wires and wheels
attempt a diagnosis
I juggle my worries
contemplate cobwebs
peeling paint and dust
an abundance of weeds
the machine gets heavier
and I feel my fingers slip
brace myself for the crash
as the mechanic exclaims
holds aloft a single pin
a tiny sliver of metal
lodged in the motor's throat
choking the flow of water
we tip the machine upright
it rattles and jerks into life
the world is suddenly brighter
and I feel lighter all over
Poem, © 2000, GRAHAM CATT (all rights reserved; To copy or translate this poem, please contact the poet)
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