A Good Roof

Sept 25 2015

A new roof

every 30 years or so.

A crew of weathered men

scramble over the eaves

like seasoned commandos,

lashing-in to faded ropes

hacking away

at old asphalt shingles

brittle with sun.

They hammer and cut,

wield nail-guns

like delinquent boys

playing with power-tools.

Stripped material

is raining down like dead-weight,

tossed over the edge

with gleeful abandon

in the fog and noise of war.

While in the uncut grass

nails lurk like cluster bombs.

This is never women’s work.

I’ve only ever seen men;

hauling heavy asphalt slabs,

racing up ladders

barely skimming the rungs.

The mating display

of a virile young animal,

showing-off

his agility, lack of fear.

A good roof,

and who knows how long

a house will last;

kiln-dried wood and sturdy joists

still standing strong,

sheet-roc

protected from mould, and wetness.

Even though floors creak, taps drip

the furnace wheezes and coughs.

But where roofs change

foundations are permanent.

Because you build from the ground up;

a poured concrete slab, cemented cinder-block

solid as bedrock.

And there will be no crew, 30 years on

to make it new again.

A solid footing, a good start

in a building

as well as us.

Between its old foundation

and a good roof

a house stays dry and snug.

Real estate agents talk about told houses having “good bones”. Which, at its most reductive, amounts to a good roof and a good foundation.

Since I’m having my roof done – at great expense, needless to say! – I figured the experience was at least good for a poem.

I suppose the metaphorical use of “foundation” isn’t exactly original. And I certainly hammer it home without much subtlety in the poem! But since the analogy (is as well as us metaphor, or does the use of “as” make it analogy/simile?) comes out of nowhere, I thought erring on the side of obvious might be helpful. Although maybe this is too pessimistic a view of humanity. It seems to presume that we are fixed:  that human beings cannot change or re-invent themselves, which is clearly untrue.  Nevertheless, a bad start in life – bad genes, bad parenting, bad circumstance – is tough to overcome. We are formed early, if not permanently.

I’m pleased with the martial metaphor in the opening. And also pleased with roofing as a mating ritual of young men – even without the catcalls! (I’ve probably been watching too much National Geographic TV, with all those mating displays and ritual – or not so ritual – combat!) After all, have you ever seen a woman in a roofing crew? …You’ll note I chose lack of fear over fearlessness. That’s because  lack has a nice resonance with slab, ladder, and animal; but mostly because fearlessness ends on a mushy sound:  the line has a much stronger finish when  fear is left hovering in the air on the final period.