Straightening the Rack

Old iron dish-drying crate was buckled flat across the flagstones. Mess. Bad storage for tin bowls. I set my cleaver upright against the wall bench. Dropped heavy on both knees. Clamped both fists onto the bent outer wire and shoved outward with full torso weight. Rusted solder groaned, screeched, then snapped square. Picked up three dented pewter platters from the grit. Slapped them into the vertical slots one by one. Solid clatter. Everything stands upright and dry. Snatched my cleaver back into both hands. Ready.