Catherine Mcguire
Chainsaw
Is this the ultimate phallic symbol?
My god – with teeth!
The bar like a frat paddle
Please sir, I’d like another one
and the alchemist brew machine testosterone
of gas and oil and stink.
Men don’t like it woman with saw.
I see their eyes roll she’ll kill herself
and the grimaces like a Mason’s handshake
beamed across the room. Pull that cord
and you have crossed over
no apron fits over the chainsaw’s thrust.
In truth, it’s heavy, as unwieldy as power
prone to kick back at tense moments.
As soon as I start it, shuddering in my hands
I want to shut it off, be done.
But men over-charge for wood, they skin you
for the macho it takes to wield the saw.
And the blade slides so smoothly through
these solid logs, piled like a barricade.
No back-and-forth, negotiating; a clean slice.
So tempting to handle all my Gordian knots
like this.
Catherine McGuire is a writer/artist with a deep concern for our planet's future, with five decades of published poetry, six poetry chapbooks, a full-length poetry book, Elegy for the 21st Century, a SF novel, Lifeline and book of short stories, The Dream Hunt and Other Tales. Find her at www.cathymcguire.com
