The Ropes that Hold the Cannon Back

There’s rows of them on the ship.
Going back to the 1700’s. Cannon.
Cast iron and a few thousand pounds each,
each on wheels and a wooden cradle.
A rope and tackle wrap around them.

It seems impossible that a single rope
can hold back a cannon as it fires,
keep it from rolling too far back,
over the men gathered around
to make a weapon of the iron and wood.
A dozen projectiles, each one chosen
for the section of the opposing ship
you wish to destroy. Carefully selected.
Loaded. Fired.

And then the recoil. Caught by these ropes,
the only think holding the cannon back
from killing in both directions
but only blaming one.

About this poem.

I went to visit the USS Constitution this afternoon, and got a lesson on, among other things, cannons (or guns as they are called in the Navy.). Each cannon has a crew of several men, each with a particular detailed job. Often, the cannon broke loose from the ropes and many of the firing crew were injured or killed.

A poem about that. And about how often the things we do to wound others comes back to wound us. Poetry is never about one thing.

Tom