Carpentry
Carpentry
It’s the first nail
That hurts, the sharpness
That pierces right through the framed constructs
Of our wooden fears
With
unrelenting precision
As if we could unhurry our blood or
Hammer a dismantled dream
Into a different shape
Unfurled blueprints mark the unfinished house
Where a doorjamb is still annoyingly unaligned
Or a window frame not plumb
We call upon the carpenter ,
The one who can hold nails
In his teeth,
The one who knows
Crossbeams shudder
In the gold dust of what they must bear.
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