Bill Holm's Blog

One Happy Brick August 22, 2010

The brick enjoys all the attention.
Reddish brown, mossy, an Ohioan,
he never made it into patio geometry.
No, he rests alone atop the patio, stoically,
knowing one Sunday those people will
swath him again in glittering aluminum foil,
set his heaviness on splayed chicken meat
doomed to the grill. He will take the heat,
bear fiery spatter, without a twitch or hitch,
always press, hold firm, never a flinch.

“I love that brick,” a man will say.
“It’s the perfect size and weight.”
The brick will do whatever it takes
and wonders if he will ever press steaks.