Tension

Four quarters is a loaf of bread

or a gallon of milk,

so the uniform hangs on a string

above the bathtub instead.

The wood was dry and old,

it gave way with a sharp,

treacherous crack

that bit into the meat of my palm.

The spring is a rusted spiral now,

skittering across the tile

like a dead insect

tripped by the weight of the damp.