axeman: splitting awareness

the splitting axe
is unaware

it rises
and descends

bites and holds
or bounces off

there is only
the wood
the reduction
from that
into this

the splitting axe
the swinging blow
is unaware

the axe-man
meets his rhythm

it flows like water
in the arc
of swing and strike

it does not require

his mind
though …

his mind is in
another place
where the width of the round
upon the block
beneath the axe
is a height
of tree
with a bird perched
at the apex

is a hole in the ground
and a scatter of roots
after toppling
standing taller
than he is

is a length
that is a measure
in board feet

in stacked cords

in winters

the swing of the splitting axe
is unaware

the axeman
is a grunt
an expelled sigh
of his own breath

and silence

© Frank Prem, 2017

September 2017 Poem #4: a bomb for Jong-un to share with the Donald

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