He grew up in Texas, my Grandfather,
son of a roughneck, laborer of oil.
When I visit him in the hospital he tells me about the Tool-dressers.
Men with blunt hammers that were tasked with keeping
the drill-bit pointed as it
returns from the hot dull earth.
They work in rhythm.
each in turn, the percussive flam of steel.
These men of muscle work to sharpen
the smooth flat head,
rounded out by the
ferric veins of shale.
Retooling the gilded probe for one more crash
down the pit of its own making.
To fracture its way
downward, again and again.