the rabbit goes
over the mountain
under the bridge
through the hollow log
across the field
around the bend
up the main street
behind the hospital
inside the disused factory
between the dumpsters
across the comatose junkies
and down the hole
There are people who
with a few flicks of the wrist
can origami a rope
into a work of art
that will withstand a cyclone
they have an instinct
a knack
a gift
I am not one of them
in order to secure
a mattress
to the roof of a car
and cognisant
of my limitations
I purchased
a few of those
ratchet strap things
which in my hands
turned out to be
as useless as
a ratchet
to a rabbit
after perspiring curses
and bellowing sweat
I jettisoned the ratchets
and randomly flung straps
around roof racks
with the logic that
if it went around
that many times
it couldn’t possibly
come loose
it turned out to be
barely adequate but
I’m afraid that my rabbit
will die in the hole
I love it, Clark. I've known a thousand bowlines too. But I reckon this poem is less about knots than rabbits. And maybe less about tying things down than letting things go. Cheers.
ReplyDeletethe rabbit goes under the mountain too
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you can't water a good ship down
'as useless as a ratchet to a rabbit' my fave. My dad had the knowledge, could impressively strap down a truckload. I had boyscouts and knot charts, but not knot badges, still tie granny reefs
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