to build (recurring reality)

i’m guessing coming out for carpentry lessons
would work if you saw results.
the shavings as proof which you’re craving
are all between the cracks of your framework,
just check your footwear
and wipe your feet as you enter
the temperamental environment, all
amounts to nothing if your presence vanishes.
in ashes, i dust off my face
and work.. i mean, i would work
on my next piece.. but focus is water
to my oiled grasp. and on my shoulder,
i now feel a cold clasp…

- [nel.ito]


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741