Iron Fe, 26
It is in the pan we use to fry
the bacon that rouses you.
It is in the hook (and the wrench)
you pry from the fish’s mouth.
It is the nail pounded into the wall,
in the wire attached
to the painting hung above
the bed, & in the blood that travels
you, travels faster
when there is lightning, coming thunder.
It colors your world:
rust, cedar, water, needle.
& reminds you of longing
the sound of rain falling on tin.
Love like iron finds is strongest
fused and flexible