Sunday Poem

Breaker Bar

Every now and then I get the urge to lift
the simple slender breaker bar in my hands,
snap a socket on the square pivot fitting

and go hunting for a big fat frozen bolt,
one that hasn’t budged in ages, rust bound
threads that yearn to give held fast by a split

spiral washer, a tense marriage of wedge
to pent up tension, for no reason other
than to feel the sheer unbridled joy

that comes from applying Archimedes
Law of the Lever, set to deliver
a stunning verdict proclaimed with a sharp

dry crack that travels through my hands
my arms to light up some forgotten
constellation in a dark and dusty

corner of my brain, closing a circuit
that began with the simple slender
breaker bar bequeathed but rarely wielded,

a conjure stick to summon you back to
throw your weight around, tip the scales in my
favor, balanced absurdly on the business end.

by Dave Hardin
from Epigraph, Issue II 

Breaker bar