Prototype (an acrostic poem)

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Putting together yet another try was one of the most satisfying things he did

Reaching down he snapped in the last fitting and took a breath, ready to see if it worked

Of course, building all these iterations was also one of the worst things he could do

They reminded him of the numerous failures he didn’t plan for, that he was a bad engineer

Only he knew there was almost zero chance that the first one would work out of the box

That was the stuff of myths, legends, and dumb luck

Yearning to know if this was the one, he flipped the on switch

Prepared for sparks to fly and flames to claim one more attempt

Except this time it didn’t burn.  It still didn’t work, but that was still progress?

Knot (an acrostic poem)

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Knowing hands twisted and tied the thick cords with ease

Noting where the rope had begun to fray

Outside the wind began to howl, which he thought fitting

There was no better accompaniment when at the gallows

Restart (an acrostic poem)

Rust crumbled from the ’57 Chevy

Eroding the metal shell

Slowly stealing away the car’s soul

Transforming into reddish-brown dust

Alex scooped up some of the oxidized metal

Rubbing her hands on her leather apron she headed to the forge

The idea of melting it down and recasting it seemed fitting

 

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