The carpenter is intent on the pressure of his hand
on the awl and the trick of pinpointing his
strength
through the awl to the wood which
is tough
He has no effort to spare for despoilings
or to worry if he'll be cut in on the dice
His skill is vital to the scene
and the safety of the state
Anyone can perform the indignities
It's his hard arms
and craft that hold the eyes of the convict's women
There is the problem of getting the holes exact
(in the middle of this elbowing crowd )
and deep enough to hold the spikes
after they've sunk through those bared feet
and inadequate wrists he knows are waiting behind him
He doesn't sense perhaps that one of the hands
is held in a curious gesture over him--
giving or asking
forgiveness?--
but he'd scarcely take time to be puzzled by poses
Criminals come in all sorts as
anyone knows who makes crosses
are as mad or sane as those who decide on their killings
Our one at lest has been quiet so far
though they say he talked himself into this trouble
a carpenter's son who got notions of preaching
Well here's a carpenter's son who'll have carpenter sons
God willing and build what's wanted
temples or tables
mangers or crosses and shape them decently
working alone in that firm and profound abstraction
which blots out the bawling or rag-snatchers
To construct with hands knee weight
braced thigh
keeps the back turned from death
But it's too late now for the other carpenter's boy
to return to this peace before the nails are hammered
Earle Birney
