MR
BEECH
Our
woodwork teacher mr beech (i kid you not)
reserved
for year two
as
i approached thirteen
the
dovetail joint
and
pièce de résistance
the
haunched mortise and tenon
he
strode –
if
strode’s the word
for
a man scarcely
five
foot tall –
between
the work-benches
with
their worn surfaces
and
heavy vices
a
plank in hand
a
plank
he
slapped into his right palm
to
tell us
he
meant business
(no
canes for him
a
plank
did
the job
just
splendid)
and
checked our drawings
no
joint could be essayed
without
his approval
a
lifetime later
i
translate poetry
in
search of a poet
that
calls for
the
haunched mortise and tenon
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