Fatal Confusion

A small misstep, leg crashing through

Cleaved in half as the steam line breaks

The wrench slips, crossing phase to phase

...arc blast, molten metal

Blows your torso through

Toeboard kicks up, 90 feet drop

Into the yawning separator's blades

When they swept you off of the furnace's walls

They had to I.D. you by your keyring

Your final face, a mask of shock

...not even enough time to whimper

Your cranium caves in with an awful sound

The result of your fatal confusion

The doors to the factory, locked from the outside

...the burning stench of the seamstress's flesh

Unsteady hands on the cutting torch

Cut the piece of angle, three fingers, too

Didn't see the windsock blow

...chlorine gas fills your lungs

"That rigging's seen better days"

Smashed prostrate by eighteen tons