of cloth-covered wire brings back
my father. I’m older than he was
when he died and left a workbench laden
with tools and containers that mother
doled out including a white wood bob
my father attached above the minnow
on my fishing line. Soon a perch
would pull it under. A surprise today,
wire on a spool in the junk drawer,
what I need for a picture frame.
Too quickly I pull the wrong end of the wire
into a tangled knot, then see the small tack
he pounded onto the spool’s edge, which
offered me a loop of wire to start with.