Jack-knife of Many Trades

Jack-Knife of Many Trades

He rapped it on the heel of his hand, then

ran the blade around the edge to scrape the cake,

opened the pouch and inhaled the sweetness of

Red Virginia ribbons, “notes of tea and toast.”

He filled the bowl by pinches, tamped it,

clamped it between his teeth, lit, drew, exhaled

memories that swirled in soft clouds

around his head and melted in the air.

He grasped the de-barked branch of pine

and pulled and pushed the blade.

Fragrant chips and ribbons curled

around his feet as he worked out

life’s knots and carved his heart

into flowers and vines.

He stopped to dig a sliver from

his palm, remembering the scars

in the autumn of his years.

 

 

In the stillness,

Sandy

 

Prompted by this challenge at Tweetspeak Poetry.