Imperfectly Clean

A patter of bread crumbs, trailing guide
or pebble's scald if you jury the bind,
a nibbled labor of warehoused union,
scribbled menu fare in oily air.

Steam soaked squeezed, the puffed pale
freckled fresh mashed harsh against
the steel cold rivet press, the jump and
tack thwack blanketing cement lover's bed.

And burned we into that industrial bore,
wild pushing wet, thumping to the clack
of machinery drill, grime flavoring your
fresh salted skin, taut, raw, imperfectly clean.

Heaped in the dirt of factory floor, amid
threshing gears slamming cement iron pig,
I silenced to mark my shift starting you,
spilling, pumping the valve release,
my initials chewed into your soft bellied trunk.