John Irons: 'Mr Beech'

 

 

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