The Ship’s Engineer

There is always something to be repaired,
something coming undone, loose, apart.
Rust, or wear, or theivery. Clumsyness.
Parts defective from their birth,
never quite fitting, yet fit they must
way out here at sea.

There is always something to be repaired.
At times it is you, but there is work to be done.
Sometimes it can wait, but sooner or later
things come undone. Part of the art and science
is knowing what can wait, and what can not,
a dance of tools and decisions that mostly
keeps the craft moving forward.

There is satisfaction in it. Knowing the tools
and parts and pieces and how they go together,
what can be faked and what can not so that
no one notices the work, only the journey,
the waves and shorelines and tea on the top deck
whilel you are below, dirty and plying your trade.
There is always something to be repaired.

About this poem.

Spawned by the photograph above, which is of the ship’s engineer’s room in the steamship TIconderoga, now at the Shelburne Museum in Shelburne, Vermont.

About the ship’s engineer. About my work. And maybe yours.

Tom