Hammer and a Nail

“Loose and low,” he would say
and bounce the hammer with ease.
I gripped it high at the narrowest bit of neck
making a hard third thumb of the wild limb.
He watched from the corner of his eye
at the smallest angle from glancing away
so each time the nail went slowly crooked
it took only a slight adjustment of the head.
He did not believe you could gently create
a corner, a union. He would have broken
every finger for me if he thought that would help.