First, too much play would cause the crotch-tab to
Break off; the thumb was often the next part
To crack when holding weapons stressed its glue—
And last, the band which joined the hips to heart
Snapped. Then I’d have two halves of G.I. Joe.
I find a bag of partial figures, toys
Which waited twenty years for me to grow
Until tonight, when I, no longer boy,
Now lay them out in pieces to be pressed
Back whole. I find the hook between the legs,
And, using a screwdriver’s tip, I thread
A gleaming ring from hook to spine. A chest
Can hold that all in place. I dust the face,
Commence the reattachment of the head.
