Ode to Rulers

Connor Lindeboom

Length of wood

Tattooed by order

A line to make lines

And account dimensions

So drab a tool

But so invaluable to creators

Something wielded by child

A sword fit to slay dragons

Swung messily

But always striking true the invisible terror

Something kept close by father

That he may house the birds

Shelve the vase and candles

And make a fake man of wood and rubber

That his son feel recoil to his swings

Something to fetch for mother

That she may cut shards of color from their sheet

Then bind them in molten metal

Into pictures of nature to be hung before windows

And let the sun come through prettier

Something dreaded by student

To measure, expand, and shrink

Only shapes on paper that have not, do not, and will not exist

Until he sees them

In the buildings and in his drawings

Cherished now, that it guides his untrained hand along the sheet.

Something that is never found when needed

Always buried and lost to the rushes

Then found long after

And stored carefully for the future