Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Beam

Razor saw ripped
From the Earth
The beam now raised over head.

Water-stretched fibers
Once reached for the Sun;
Now for the stud
On opposite wall.

Stained, nailed but
Not long enough dead
To forget.

It knows yet what it is
And longs to sag;
Corrupting the pure line
Of the saw's awful will.

04.21.08

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