Point of Origin

The kid by the drill bits has that look,

the one where the air gets too heavy to move.

I remember the weight of the brass

in the pocket of my oversized hoodie.

I still have it, buried in the tray

under the hex keys and the rusted pliers.

A plumb bob, heavy and sharp at the tip,

designed to find the absolute center of gravity.

I took it from a site on 4th Street

because I wanted something that wouldn't swing.

Now it just sits there, cold and dull,

measuring the bottom of a plastic box.