Michael Graber
The Woodworker
(for Charles Havelka)

To wake the sparrow and nuthatch
from the oak stump, he hums
in key with the handsaw.

Never a word about his wife,
a carving he made and married.
She took his light touch personally,

envied the flaws his fingers
savored on others as unique.
With stolen chisels and his mallet

she hobbles into the deep woods
and makes herself into a harp.
She circles the head of a feral

cat around and around, uses
its intestines as strings.
Driftwood is chosen for tone,

pinegum for glue and perfume.
While she dries in the day,
the woodworker thrives in new grain.

The knots remind him of his wife:
an imperfection nature granted
his callused hands to clinch

with salt or leave disturbed.

Copyright © 1999
Michael Graber All Rights Reserved 

Also by Michael Graber:

 Death, The Patient Gentlman,
Makes a Rare Offer