Dented (to the fire of the Seraphim)

“See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels
in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven.” ~Matthew 18:10

I once had a grinding wheel
scuff off several layers
of my epidermis,
and I was grateful for what remained.

The accident took a chunk of me;
for three months my co-workers
called me “dented.” Hey, you dented
motherfucker, where’s my tool bit?

Everyone was maimed, missing
fingers, spinal disks, toes.
One guy they called “Squeaks”
because his voice box

had been crushed
to a high raspy squeal. They say
his wife left him for some
upholsterer/weekend preacher.

I sometimes ate lunch with Squeaks.
Never asked him about the wife,
figuring it was beside the point.
He asked to see my “dent,”

and when I took off the bandage
he said ooh, mother!
at a much higher pitch
than any falsetto.

Eventually my layers grew back,
not perfect, yet more or less
intact. But Squeaks remained crushed.
One day, his ten-year-old daughter

came into the plant carrying
his lunch box, kissed his forehead,
spoke to him in a way I could only
imagine. I had no children. I went

to the bathroom where I could cry.
When I came out, all the people
on their various machines,
the clamor and the stink

of coolant mist and creosote,
the baggy work pants, boots,
all dissolved into a Seraph
who entered me.

The angel who rises from the I,
into the Thou. You’ll know
if you ever feel that fire rising,
and every curse becomes a prayer.

So, I knelt in the middle
of the factory floor,
holding my gut and humming:
Low, and low, and low.

Joe Weil is a piano player and storyteller who grew up in industrial Elizabeth, New Jersey. He is an associate professor at Binghamton University. His poetry, reviews, and quotes have appeared in The New Yorker, The Boston Review, Rattle, Paterson Literary Review, Poet Lore, and The New York Times. His latest book is The Backwards Year (NYQ Books, 2022). He lives in Binghamton, NY with his wife, Emily, and children, Clare and Gabriel.