The side of a hammer is
called a cheek. This one
is sleek, made from steel,
real hard metal to drive into
any board any nail
that needs it. To a hammer,
every nail needs it. Watch
the way the carpenter
lines it up with the mark,
caresses it up, cheek to cheek,
takes into his heart the
peen’s sense of purpose,
purposes it for a target
it’s never had before. And
watch, underneath, the
shaking child. Watch how
he fastens his feet to the floor.
—
B.A. Van Sise is an author and photographic artist focused on the intersection between language and the visual image. He is the author of three monographs: Children of Grass: A Portrait of American Poetry, Invited to Life: After the Holocaust, and the upcoming On the National Language: the Poetry of America’s Endangered Tongues. He is a New York State Council on the Arts Fellow, a finalist for the Rattle Poetry Prize, a two-time PX3 award-winner, winner of the Lascaux Prize for Nonfiction, and an IPPY gold medalist for poetry.
Painting by Miguel Amate, “La Coz y El Martillo” (1990).
