I noticed the tremor in his hand
which seemed to be driven
from his bone-high wrist
as if he were deftly turning
an invisible threaded nut
and spinning it quick
up to the bolt’s bare shank
His wife’s coffee was spilling
in that grip as he turned to me
and she took the tepid remnants
He smiled and announced
his own diagnosis just that week –
but he knew it well before –
how unwell he was becoming
The engineering marvels rolled by
under the sure wheel and steer
of coke-puffed mechanics
Each boiler and firebox was riveted
or screwed and wrenched as one
We tremored as the showmen rumbled
MIKE BELL | 10,000 Poems 