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Wrench

November 4, 2013 Leave a comment

Wrench

on my 34th birthday
stayed in the house all day
my son, sick, asleep – held him on the couch
tore myself from the book for a moment
to look at him
“should do THAT more often”
same virus that got him coursing through my system
my wife, asleep next to us, propping
her big pregnant belly on the pillows
-back to the book,
floated in and out of my body, as Ginsberg
had it, “a new kind of Jewish Yoga”
what went wrong with the garbage
disposal? our new sink full, stagnant, ill-smelling
like some domesticated overgrown pond
       was shabbos
so we rested
when it ended and Lev went to his crib
I took out my new wrench, stuck it up the insinkerator
shaking stiffly then more vigorously, though still skeptical
I know nothing of objects that surround me
something gave way –
like a little self-imploding tornado the water swirled,
went down with all the gook, soap,
if not cleansing – maybe, emptying –

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