Load-Bearing

Flat on my back under the table,

fixing the leg with the wobble.

Green crayon on the wood above me.

Dried glue like an amber bubble—

thumbnail-sized, still holding

the joint where the wood had split.

A screw stripped twice and still in there,

still doing the work of it.

Nobody cleans what no one sees.

Old repairs. Old evidence.

Somebody got under here before me,

did what they could, and since

then it's held. I stayed

longer than the job required.

The table above me, bearing weight.

The amber bubble, unretired.