The Rivets
The rivets are frozen overnight.
It must be some engineer’s job
at the end of the day
to drop the shaped alloy
into the liquid nitrogen cauldron
before heading home for supper,
tongs laid carefully on the bench
with the thick protective rubber gloves beside
ready for the morning.
In the aircraft assembly building
the component parts are waiting;
on the wing the holes are drilled
matching the bores on the fuselage.
With the early shift the men must be swift,
the contraction of steel with freezing
only gives a spare millimetre
and the thaw happens fast.
It must be impressive to watch;
the hoisting of wing to body,
vapour rising from the frozen vats,
the choreography of rivets lifted, fitted,
blunt end hammered to the plate
as it is slotted into place,
the expansion of the bolt fixing it all –
the wing to the plane, the plane to the sky,
the beautiful genius tightening of that rapid dance
carried out to the ringing of metal
in the vastness of that vaulted space.
How wonderful, an engineering poem! I really enjoyed it. Especially the incredible line: "the wing to the plane, the plane to the sky,'. Yes, that's truly lovely.
ReplyDeleteYes a wonderful poem. I love the subject and so many lines, 'the choreography of rivets' was just one and the sense of upward lift.
DeleteI agree with the above. Particularly love the last four lines for the way they add magic to engineering.
ReplyDelete