The Unbalanced Blade

The air in this unit is heavy and thick,

so I reach for the cord and I give it a flick.

The motor groans like it’s waking from sleep,

starting a rhythm it can’t possibly keep.

It wobbles and strain in its mounting of brass,

shaking down grit on my sandwich and glass.

A grey snow of dust drifts away from the wood,

settling on things where it never once stood.

I watch it tilt wildly, a spinning mistake,

waiting for something to finally break.

It stirs up the heat but it offers no grace,

just a dizzying panic inside of the space.