in that party the one beside me
is an old man who has not shaved
and he describes himself as a
rusty nail.
i listen to his outbursts and outpourings
he is the storm drowned by the loud music
of the room where everyone is
drunk and laughing out loud
He has a pen in his pocket and uncut
fingernails. His eyebrows are white and
thick and he smells like someone who
did not wake up for two days
and rushed to this party because he
is close to the family and does not
want to disappoint those who still
care for him.
rusty nail. I look at him again. He holds
two planks together. He keeps the walls
steady. He makes the table stand on
its four feet. He made this old house.
"Grandpa, why so sad?" a little boy
pulls him to dance the waltz.
This rusty nail. Once sharp now blunt
with unexplained loneliness.
Tomorrow, the rest will leave and
what he thinks stinks, shall always
remain here.
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