axe time

what is the axe
with its edge

but another means
to conquer

slice by slice
the wood-round preserved
diminuendo

the axe
is unmoved
even as the chips
encircle
and surround us

ready again
if required
to deliver a blow

and in the darkness
of the garden shed
the rhythm of sleeping
is the percussive memory
of thud
upon thud
upon

time between strikes
is a no-time

no change
no awareness
but waiting

time before a new strike
is a no-time
of new-time
then

and then

a blow

my axe
is a portent
a driven cut
in the making

no mood
no mind
no time
but

a blow


© Frank Prem, 2017

August 2017 Poem #05: street echo

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