By Jason Bleijerveld
The Iron Men
Long forgotten men.
Carved wooden faces on cast iron bodies
Molten ore hearts, set like stone, stubborn.
Tireless fingers of riveted steel
Working for those they loved.
Incandescent light bulb eyes
Dimly lit in the smothering darkness.
Steam powered bodies
Sustained by smoke, companionship, reflection.
Minds of fixed brass gears
Set to a task, without doubt.
Their sons were strangers.
Clothed in sterile plastic and steel
Digital nervous systems and tireless bodies.
Wed women of ageless silicone
Defiant of porcelain mothers.
Minds continually updated
Scoffing past ignorance.
The hard iron fathers now worn by time.
Rusted, broken, forgotten
Replaced by a selfish digital age of obsolescence.
Jason Bleijerveld lives in Huntington, IN, a small Rust Belt town with a lot to teach. He tries to listen, and on occasion, learns enough to write something down, that it might not be forgotten. He finds writing essential for keeping his eyes open and his heart soft, seeking not so much to affect as to be affected.