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Dead Wood
by Kristina WoodhillMike #1
I am reminded
when you were in search
of a new leg
well, a living leg,
any left-over leg
claiming a specific length,
you were the kid
hoping to open
that shoe box at Footlocker
gazing in on the perfect, polished match
to snug on and tie tight
then walk easily away;
I can't remember how it was shipped
maybe it walked all the way
keeping the knee limber,
ready for the kick of a life time,
two life times,
someone else's goal already in the score books;
I remember how
they glued that leg on, applied duct tape, staples, welds in place, sutures upon sutures, wands waved and prayers prayed
it was a mighty building project
your pyramid on a white sheet
and you stuck with it
and it with you
willing it to be part and parcel
of you
until there they were
reading your will
and never a step
had been taken
never a step
one step
step
Mike #2
Early marked your date today
with the bone breaker
line drawer
leg taker
measuring a thigh
high on sarcoma's poisoned drink,
dotted marks
your circumference,
black marks
your bled arcs meetings,
slim trunk on main trunk
trunk open
trunks opened
trunks unhinged
there is no lid and the lock remains jammed
patient, we have a problem
these table legs
well, can you feel the rocking
there once was a sawyer named Claude
who saw so he sawed and he sawed
looked sideways uneven
tipped over now cleaven
too soon both the legs became paws
there is nothing funny here
there is nothing funny here
there is nothing fun here
no thing is left here
was it his
left,
left
left, right,
left
Mikes #1 & #2
I wish you had met,
a decade separates like legs on chairs
wobbling opposite,
you would have been buddies
forging bonds, flesh, souls on a sacred journey
even your church the same
Rise, you two, and walk
I command you
Beth commands you
we are on the side of right and good and hopeful and
damn the doubters, full faith ahead,
when did the soul decide to outlive the body
when did you decide to die before me
I'm counting on you, Beth,
to pull him through this insult
you are the younger, the faithful, the earth Mother
prove my weary, doubting heart wrong
09/22/2016 Posted on 09/23/2016
Copyright © 2024 Kristina Woodhill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 09/23/16 at 11:03 AM Nice way of telling a story Kristina...with compartmentalised parts leading to the whole. |
| Posted by Philip F De Pinto on 09/24/16 at 11:44 AM This shatters my heart to read, Kristina, it is devastatingly sad and miraculously written. |
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