Obsession No.1

Obsession No.1

by Ragan Sutterfield

In August afternoon days
my three year old voice would roar
like bulldozers--their diesel steam
rising and chipped metal gleaming
diamond--like my chain linked view.

"Building a new house?"
My yell never stopping,
automatic in round saw loops--
lost in hammers, nails, and planes--
mixing loud and glorious.

There was never any call back,
wave back.
But it didn't really matter.
I asked and they answered
Frames rising in reply
like words--jointed, angled, linked.