I tried to learn to weld once. Not because I wanted to, but because the company I worked for decided I was surplus. Instead of laying me off, they offered to train me for another position. "Cool," I said, not realizing how ironic that was.
I'm told many women make good welders. I'm not one of them. I discovered by trying to weld that what I had thought for years was good concentration was really just an ability to drag myself back to the subject after my mind wandered--and with it, my torch.
But two good things came out of my experience: a humorous essay, which I'll share down the road if it doesn't find a home elsewhere, and this poem.
Welding
Those who know you at work
Call you cold steel,
But I know you better.
My passion, a molten pool,
Follows the seams of your body,
Sealing them to me.
We craft our love
Steel strong and solid,
And when done,
You still glow with heat,
And I am burned by the sparks.
copyright 2011
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