Bookmark
My son gave me a bookmark
that he made himself in school
First find your tree:
a fine fir perhaps,
or oak for preference
and avoid the yew
that guards the graveyard.
A wooden treat of smiley faces
and varnish, paint and pine.
Look for the straight limbed
and a trunk that rings -
no hollowness here.
With the gift, a demand
for affection, approval.
Now apply the axe,
the adze,
the plane, sandpaper,
stain.
I remember every ounce
of sunlight measured in
the fibres of that grain.
Bookmark
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- Mike Daniels
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Fascinating poem. I've read it several times now, and am intrigued by the structure, because each time I read it I hear the 'voices' differently -- especially the one in italics, which has a dark ages feel to it. The contrast is hinted at strongly, between the bookmark on the one hand, and the... what? It's never made explicit. Left to the reader, methinks.
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