I Wrote a Poem
A Pint's a Pound the World Around
"Which weighs more," he asks.
"An ounce of feathers or an ounce of gold?"
I have heard this one before, but even if I had not
I would know the answer: "They weigh the same."
His lip curls a little, and he says:
"Wrong. An ounce of gold is heavier."
I imagine a silly argument about buoyancy or air friction.
But he continues:
"Gold is measured in troy ounces
And troy ounces are 480 grains each.
Feathers, on the other hand, are measured
In avoirdupois ounces. An avoirdupois ounce—"
My fists fly into his face.
They don't make sounds like a Hollywood movie.
Just little plops, and
It hurts my hands more than I had imagined.
His front tooth splits open my knuckle
And I watch blood pump out of his lip in little waves.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he sobs.
And I accept his apology.