There is a stop light

in front of Weston Autobody;

in evening the autoshop light sears


Some stand – columns –

and hold cars with outstretched fingers.

One hangs like a bodied hammock

another is a bowed branch.

The light colors them

into not-yet-shed virgins,

discovered about to uncover

something known.

It is inappropriate night play

to handle hammers under eerie light.

Better coffee mugs, sleeping infants, books.

A discharged weapon.

It was the temp’s first night on Triple A.

Armed with ratchet and wrench

he dug into the boy’s belly

mistaking glisten for gleam.