Sunday, August 12, 2007

Small Song for a Hand Truck



Always manned by a fool who cuts corners
too sharply. The corner of what's carried
cuts into door jambs and the wall garners
large gashes when the object is hurried.

Held tightly by a mover - hands too rough
to notice the smoothness of the handle
they jerk in effort to steer - it proves tough,
dependable. Used, scuffed, but never dull.

When the weight is balanced over its wheels
it's tempting to move things quickly and far
too easy to neglect whatever feels
light. Mind the ledge of a first class lever.

Upright, sure. Exceeding its weight limit
leads to an ultra steel wreck. Fool in it.

4 comments:

tracy said...

Or the fool on it.

Nice!

Brenda Schmidt said...

Ha! Do you think it has a chance of getting into an anthology of the best Canadian hand truck sonnets?

tracy said...

Uh, sure--might be awhile in the making.

Brenda Schmidt said...

Then there's time to write more! Perhaps a hand truck sonnet cycle is in order...