Calliope's Guiding Hands

Her hands are pear-sized,
always petite, well-shaped,
gloved now in leather,
cradling squares of slate,
gray and mottled red.

Her spine is straight,
with waist bow-tied
by apron’s knots,
fabric bright gold
with seams of burnt umber.

Eyes fixate on dark line
drawn with a straightedge.

She lines up the lead mark
with a diamond tipped blade,
adjusts the guide bar, retightens
a knob or two, squints again,
sees a path through the cut.
 
With unperturbed pace,
her right hand stretches
forward, and click

motor belches,
bellows, shrieks,
zings, grinds out
a foul racket.

She ignores
the stench of noise

and shepards each damp tile
into its next dimension,
invents a new
geometry, bestows
a proof
for this father’s 
empty nest.

Copyright 2011 by Tom Flynn

Comments

[David Houtchens]

"the stench of noise"
What a great image.

Nice mix of the coarseness, serenity, and clarity of a skilled worker at her craft.

[George]

I also LOVE "stench of noise." Really, really well done. As usual.

[Tom Flynn]

Thanks David and George. I'm glad you like the stench of noise line because I wasn't convinced it fit and almost massaged it off the page.