{"id":281,"date":"2013-03-20T03:40:23","date_gmt":"2013-03-20T10:40:23","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/timhrklit.com\/?page_id=281"},"modified":"2013-03-20T03:40:23","modified_gmt":"2013-03-20T10:40:23","slug":"pull-5","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/timhrklit.com\/?page_id=281","title":{"rendered":"PULL"},"content":{"rendered":"

PULL<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

Sitting,<\/b><\/p>\n

one light on<\/b><\/p>\n

in the room,<\/b><\/p>\n

carving<\/b><\/p>\n

a violin from a log.<\/b><\/p>\n

I realize it\u2019s not<\/b><\/p>\n

the wood or the blade<\/b><\/p>\n

but the longing<\/b><\/p>\n

I need.<\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

Without its pull<\/b><\/p>\n

my spine would shatter.<\/b><\/p>\n

Like water or air<\/b><\/p>\n

I could collapse<\/b><\/p>\n

with ease.<\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

I loved her, the<\/b><\/p>\n

one in the framed<\/b><\/p>\n

photograph by the<\/b><\/p>\n

candle, but<\/b><\/p>\n

like the sweater<\/b><\/p>\n

in the bottom drawer<\/b><\/p>\n

it will never fit again<\/b><\/p>\n

and never come back<\/b><\/p>\n

in style.<\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

All day, the television<\/b><\/p>\n

informed me of<\/b><\/p>\n

unemployment in America<\/b><\/p>\n

and explosion<\/b><\/p>\n

after explosion<\/b><\/p>\n

somewhere else in the world.<\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

The sky is as<\/b><\/p>\n

red as an open sore<\/b><\/p>\n

and darkness is<\/b><\/p>\n

leaking on the window.<\/b><\/p>\n

I think of goodness<\/b><\/p>\n

when I see the sawdust<\/b><\/p>\n

on my lap<\/b><\/p>\n

and the floor,<\/b><\/p>\n

not yet disturbed<\/b><\/p>\n

by the four horsemen<\/b><\/p>\n

and their dull stampede.<\/b><\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

\u2014\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Timothy Herrick<\/b><\/p>\n

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