Andrew Waterhouse
My Firewood Therapy
axe fall
catching light
what was one
is now two
blade halving
the bark
the bast
the xylem
cutting heartwood years
every slice thinning
as memory should
to a splinter
just beyond sight
to the final cell
- my hand unsteady -
wall now breached
organelles
spill out
are lost
on the woodshed floor
no way back
but to cut into the matrix
the cavities and membranes
the protein webs
breaking the long chains
towards a single molecule
to the lone atom
spinning in the dark
surrounded by uncertainty
still at the core
two particles to be split
Page(s) 44
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