This poem’s been rattling around my head for a while, so I made myself get on with it for a bike zine (on the theme of ‘wheels’) which is being produced tomorrow for the Juliana’s Bike Festival – hosted by the great Culture Vulture blog.
A month or so ago, I took my bike in to the Pedallar’s Arms (an amazing place always staffed by wonderful volunteers) as the pedal (appropriately) was making an alarming screeching noise. Several hours later, with a functioning pedal, realised how complex and surgical the process of fixing a pedal is…And that’s what inspired this (perhaps a bit e e cummings-like) poem…(It may or may not end up in the zine! Depends on space and time, as does everything…)
Notes on the Pedal Post-Mortem
or, The Wheels are the Feet
the wheels are the feet
are the pedals are the feet
are the wheels are the
ache in my treads screech
each orbit when feet meet
rubber of skin / tarmac of air
joints of the race break
red-pink fractured link
mechanical ankle / bone machine
the hands are the grip
are the brakes are the grip
are the hands are
the workshop crank of surgery
momentum from metallurgy
tweezered bearings / threaded limbs
ring-road of recovery
stitched white line a cut between
cycling the city / the city in me
the wheels are the feet
are the pedals are the feet
are the wheels are
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