hammer

crack, the wood splinters
the carpenter feels the sting
as the blood spits from the nail
the finger cracked open
the splinter lodged deep

the single twang of a steel-string guitar
the single note of the bluebird, the pigeon
cooing, cooing him to sleep.

the pincers resolve the pain
but not the healing
the carpenter moves to the next task

such is the violence of the daily chore
the view from the top or the bottom
always looking vertically
never to the left