Pliers for hands with
bolts reinforcing clay visions,
of pine grains on unlacquered mind
on high gloss smiles.
With saber saw heat on pressed emotions
shrilling through its middle, piece by piece.
Falling not like runes, but broken legs
becoming stronger someway.
Walking in and out of memory, of rest
of eventual fate,
falling in cold-cast lap,
of quilt lining cracks and splinter skins
wrapping itself continually in its apron strings,
of making it weatherproofed and sealed.
Dirt floors spread wide-open for tired impressions
of making it stay awhile.
for ma's smoked kettle plucking away
at the very greys of its wilderness home.
Crude lynching leftovers much anticipated,
bloodshot presence in forest's pit.
Candle wax waning
gravity's pleasure on crumbless table,
as down spirit is put to rest on featherbed.
Waking up to
unknown origin of comfort feelings
wanting to seduce the day, being set aside for now.
Chill seems to snake the covers,
crude reawakening begins again,
holding and gripping to luck of the draw.