Wrenches

Written 7/24/05

I live in a place where buildings are old
Learned men tinker with ways to hold
Structures together with long threaded rods
Speared through their bellies, isn't that odd?
Plates on their ends and tight fitting nuts
Turned by wrenches, as it tears, it cuts
Pulling at walls, demanding plumb
I feel like these dwellings, or wish to be one
Searching for iron rods that impale
Picking the plates with such detail
Then trouble comes like wind in the night
Rocking my base, was true was tight
So I look for wrenches to turn my nuts
And having them only driven by lust
Flexing, twisting and portraying
A new me that i am displaying