Plav’s …… Workshop

Plav’s Poetry Workshop

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~1~

the sliding doors
as tall as a truck
and each one as wide
are a pair
that meet
tight
in the middle

they don’t get opened a lot

Plav’s got another door
man-size
cut into the one
on the right
that he uses to go in and out

it’s all been made
by Plav himself
out of corrugated iron
and steel
on a concrete floor
and it runs deep

a long
wide
workshop

three-phase power
gives him all the grunt
that he needs

and he disappears in there
for weeks
sometimes

but the sign he hangs
on the door
and the noise
that comes from the workshop
will tell you
where to find him

you can try that
if you want to

~2~

when he’s gone
people will tell you stuff about it
speaking quietly

like

Plav’s at work

I saw blue light
flickering
from the welder
or a lightning strike
or some such

or

I heard the sound
of something big
getting dropped …

maybe thrown …

onto the floor

and then there’s the sound

bang!

bang!

bang!

like a heavy hammer
clanging
as it shapes something

one time a guy said
he heard what sounded like
Plav

throwing himself

his whole self

right into the tin
and making that big pushed-out dent
that you can see
in the side of the wall

and then he wailed
like a dog might howl
up at the moon

~3~

he’s a foreigner
you know

that seems to be
the common-held opinion

he speaks perfectly all right
but
he’s a bit
funny

a bit slow

he seems to need time
to translate
his thoughts
from the way he thinks
into a language
you and me might know

but
no matter how he tries
it still ends up
sounding a bit
strange

~4~

the pile of waste
at the back of the workshop
seems to be growing

I guess it’s not going too well
in there

perhaps
this time
the old skills
might not be enough

what he needs
could be buried
a bit too deep

~5~

it’s gone quiet
around the workshop

someone reckons they heard
a snatch
of something like song

could be
he’s getting somewhere

nearly finished

the sliding doors …

yes
the sliding doors …

all right!

when he comes out
he’s going to need
looking after

some nourishment
a pint of pale ale
and a microphone

somebody
fetch the lectern out

hook up
the speaker

set the chairs out

tap the fresh keg …

he’s wheeling out
a new one

looks like he pinned it down
at last

a new one

come together now
gather round
get your beer
pick a good seat
and close your eyes

Plav
is going to take us
take all of us
for a ride
in a brand new poem

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© Frank Prem, 2017

November 2017 Poem #24: over mount hotham

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