The Sadness Factor

The Sadness Factor

“There is just something about a tool in a man’s hand. It is very sexy. But when he’s holding it, and he’s looking at you, there’s something there that suggests he’s just never going to get you”.
-Sadness Collection 2007

Your hand clutches that shaft like a child
clutching her doll with its stitched smile,
a portrayal of what she’s never known and it makes her feel
safe from father’s meaty hands
on the cusp of her buttocks and thigh;
she’s a virgin again.

Holding it like a baby, your hands cupped
forming a perfect nest.
You protect that tool
because you owe it everything,
hard labor and sweat, call it dedication-
you deserve it.

Its nestled like a battered note
faded from weeks of folding and unfolding,
furiously deciphering the valediction,
an inherent oath and final adieu
when a chair is kicked from beneath cold feet,
hands tied behind.

You clutch the shaft because it sits there and takes it,
hard labor and sweat, it takes it
from a man alone with his creation
who swallows and wallows in his own revelation
that everything is better than this.
But on a continuum, we are all sad.