the glow in the table (heart and soul)

he found it
half buried
under some rubbish
at the back of a shed
that was a junk shop
in Shepparton

old blackwood tables
with extension leaves
show up that way
from time to time

it was the work
of his heart
when he got it back home
to separate it
into its parts

legs and leaves
all handcrafted original pieces

service the winder
and its mechanism
for extension

he took his time
sanded it back to smooth
but keeping the old life
as a kind of

oil coat to finish

his heart swelled

he’d always understood
that to give your work
you had to put
your soul in

and as he opened up
the polish
was where he’d placed his mind

cloth in hand
he rubbed
while the blackwood ate up the wax
the wax up

and as he joined
with the rhythm of the rub
the wood began
to glow


Poem #544 from a series of poems drawn from the imagination and collected as: a Bachelard reverie.

9 thoughts on “the glow in the table (heart and soul)

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