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Handyman
by Barton Sutter

The morning brought such
a lashing rain
I decided I might as well
stay inside
and tackle those jobs that
had multiplied
like an old man's minor
aches and pains.
I found a screw
for the strikerplate,
tightened the handle
on the bathroom door,
cleared the drain
in the basement floor,
and straightened the hinge
for the backyard gate.
Each task had been
a nagging distraction,
an itch in the mind,
a dangling thread;
knocking a tiny brass brad
on the head,
I felt an insane sense
of satisfaction.
Then I heard a great crash
in the yard.
The maple had fallen
and smashed our car.

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