Slivers of Oak

Slump soft and heavy across the threshold
sounds the basket as it hits the floor, dull and thick
sheding the musk of some contaminated oak.

the reek of endurance.

Clicks and hums automatic with babble echoes
generate that faint easing ring that permeates

dead eyes and salt water lips from-                                                                                                     

a man

locked in discord;

alone with slivers of oak he holds

a face
whittled kind and cruel
from the edges of a wind shank
taking care to preserve some texture
while etching off wasted skin.
 
Beneath reveals a bare distortion
red with scars and ruby with flesh
that gasps at the rank fumes.

the beauty of the scene.

beyond life,

the inescapable depression in the dirt.