~ELLEN GOLDSTEIN~
YOU
ASK IF I HAVE PLANS
I love how the saw whistles
like a new kind of hawk
and the splintered edges
rub smooth as skin.
It’s the relentless arithmetic
of fitting each piece
that seems too exacting.
So I build by eye, guess
at the rightness of angles,
and mark only where the nails go.
I fill our house with shining pine
until every room smells
like a forest. You laugh, as pulling
a book from the shelf makes the entire
structure shake like a flame.
Sometimes I think it is a wonder
we stay together at all.
© by Ellen
Goldstein
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