Gratitude

When my son was born

under a cornucopia of strip lights and blades

I wanted to bear hug the ECG monitor

to glide into the mains

to race through the substation

to monkey-swing the pilon's swaying nerve line

to unite with the power station,

to entwine with the turbines

to condense with the steam

so I could bath with the naked uranium rod

warm and glowing

and kiss it,

and hold it tight

and say thank you.