The Nail

As it stands in proud defiance
Of its user- and his clients,
Of this builder- waiting, planning,
Of the table, not yet standing,

The nail aligns itself just so
That when the hammer deals its blow
It will- as if by drink impaired
-For this the builder can’t prepare-
Slump down at an angle so removed
From its intended course that you,
The reader can imagine now
Will cause the builder to question how
It was he came across this nail
Which spat upon him in denial
Of its purpose, use and goal,
Which was, as you will now recall
To build a table, strong and true,
With nails, not utilizing glue,
But now the builder sees a field
Within his mind, and it does yield
The grazing for some four- legg’d beasts
A cow, a horse- and to the east
-Within the mind of the builder done
With disobedient nails- does run
A railroad track towards a factory gray
Where beasts go in and there they stay
By tens, by twenties and by legion
To be made useful for adhesion.
The builder turns, in minds eye, towards
The field, and offers haunting words:
“Since nails I trust from now no longer
And glue is often even stronger,
I may within the future near
Seek out the service of that steer.”