Ed Ruzicka
Ed Ruzicka’s fourth book, “In the Wind”, is set for release in April. His poems have appeared in the Atlanta Review, the Chicago Literary Review, Rattle and countless others. Ed has had poems nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has been a finalist for the Dana Award. Ed is president of the Poetry Society of Louisiana. He lives under live oak trees in Baton Rouge, LA with his wife, Renee.
High Tensile
Demco made small engines
for hair driers, blenders and vacuums.
In broad streaks of blue/gray light
machinists stood for eight hours
five days a week. One punched out tin.
Another wound high tensile copper
around and around a base so electrons
could build up speed and energy to drive
the small motors of the small lives of Americans.
I took my lunch break alone,
out the back door at a picnic table
beside the mouse-gray river
that ushered branches and Bud cans
along toward Lake Michigan. At sunset
in Racine, gulls swirled over heat drafts
that rose from fishing boat engines
as the boats cut through darkening
oil slicks inside the city’s jetties.
Back then, it was always winter.
Back then, it was always winter
and you were just a friend who read books
and acted gruff. Now you are a beloved
friend who reads books and acts gruff.
Today, thinking of Demco, I suddenly understood
what high tensile copper runs inside your chest
where other men have hearts.
Every day you walk along Lake Michigan
to taste wind in from Canada, to watch
waves that come as restless as your gaze.
You are a quiet, tightly wired man whose limbs
show that. I do not know what love you give
your children or your well honored wife.
I only know the cries of gulls and your
profile before the backdrop of the sea.
