audio: Fault
audio of Tim Kidwell's poem, Fault

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We glide into the room to sit
In high-backed chairs and slide the plate
Across a line. We shift a bit

To face our food, lurch, hesitate,
Suspended at a table where
Fixed, unconvenable we wait.

Inseparable, this weight we bear
Yet stubbornly we subdivide,
Recalculate the other’s share

Of displaced stress, of force applied.
Even as we strain to solve for y
A crack appears and we collide,

Collapse, fold; sheared and shaken by
A random rupture of the wills,
Two broken vectors, you and I.

Curious, this energy that fills
The flats and ramps, resets our sick,
Surrendered halves and stills

The trembling load. Our world is thick
With signs and wonders now: a crust
Of bread, this glass of wine, the click

We hear when hips are locked in thrust
And throw. The flow of matter nears
Us toward the center, to a trust

That reconciles the hemispheres.