A long time ago, I was commissioned,
and I never quite understood why, to write about locksmiths.
And so I dutifully went off and did research
in the arcane world of locksmithery.
And that held my attention for a very short time.
[LAUGHTER]
And I then moved on to thinking that, well, a lock and a key,
there are similarities here with the hidden machinery
of the poem that can be unlocked by a reader.
And that was interesting for a couple of minutes.
[LAUGHTER]
And then I just went off and wrote a poem.
But the poem that I did write, carries a little bit
of those previous research endeavors.
It's called "Wedding the Locksmiths Daughter".
The slow, grained slide to embed the blade of the key
as a sheathing.
A gliding on graphite, pushing inside
to find the ribs of the lock.
Sunk home, the true key slots to its matrix, geared,
tight-fitting, they turn together shooting the spring
lock, throwing the boat.
Dactyls, iambics, the clinch of words.
The hidden couplings in the cased machine.
A chime of sound on sound.
The way the sung note snibs on meaning and holds.
The lines engage and marry now, their bells are keeping time.
The church doors close and open underground.