Monday, January 1, 2018

Edmund’s Hardware

Outside the hardware store,
the display of stepladders
in red, green, yellow fiberglass,
blue and black plastic trash barrels,

and heavy steel wheelbarrows
absorbs the weather with a smile.
You want the tallest ladder to reach
the daylight moon simmering

in a marbled old-fashioned sky.
You’d hang a Christmas wreath
complete with blood-red ribbon
from a snag of creamy moon-rock

and wrap silver ropes of tinsel
right around the dark side.
I’m more eager to test-drive
the snow shovels leaning against

the rail of the wheelchair ramp.
Not enough snow to challenge
the larger scoops, though. Standing
in the dry cold while traffic

stammers along the highway,
we let the old-fashioned aura
of hardware soften us up
before we enter the store to shop

for a jagged set of drill-bits
and a handsaw cruel as the famous
serpent’s tooth. Ingratitude
doesn’t apply, though. We’re glad

this store thrives with products
so tactile, compact, and utile
that they affirm human aspects
distance like the moon’s denies.


Anonymous said...

Besides, I'd rather give my hard-earned, meager income to Mr Edmund than to Aubuchon, Inc, eh?


Janette said...

Dear William,

I looked you up because I loved your poems in Borfski Press, "Giant Rats" and "Marine Corps Surplus." I love when a poem surprised me. I have 3 photographs in that issue, anytime my writing or photography get published I like to actually read the entire issue. Anyway very fine poems and I really liked reading them.

Janette Schafer

William Doreski said...

Thanks, Janette.
Bill Doreski