Issue 5:
Wood
Sharon Kourous
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Varnish
There's nothing odd about a tree outlasting its roots
or the leaves through which it lusted for sun.
Permanence and impermanence are equally mirrors.
And a cave doesn't miss its three-day temporary
resident, nor granite, the stream now meandering
some miles below. But myself, sawdusted
and sweating, yellow-rubber-gloved, bent
over this table -- the man and the blade,
the mind which envisioned -- all long dust;
that I should with such effort, scrape, sand,
wipe out dirtied layers down to the grain of it --
that's some wonder to ache over. It's the particular
holds eternity's echo. As though screening silt
for old bones could fill desire's need
or reply to old questions: a handshake from God.
I need this old wood useful: a table neglected
for seasons, rained on and warped, not for its surface
or my dinner plate's ease or its book-holding comfort.
I need the raw grain for its death that its beauty outlasted.
~Sharon Kourous
Sharon Kourous, an English teacher, is well published in print and on the web. She has received many awards, and has been nominated several times for the Pushcart. Email.
© 2000 by Sharon Kourous. All Rights Reserved.
© 2000-2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated April 23, 2002.