The Neighbor's Shakes

The Neighbor’s Shakes

For an old builder it's not

the blessing you imagined,

this inability to pinch a pen 

or fit a Philip's-head to the bit, 

but when everything we vise

into our grip becomes, in time,

a tool, some of us could use

a dropped screw or two, set loose at last

to quake in the gold-plated glint 

of all we cannot seem to hold,

the quiet quiver of empty hands 

bearing the weight of being

held even so, even so.