Dream From A Dark Enclosure Poem by Paul Kesler

Mahogany dreams of a body.

Carpenter's nails pierce
quickly,
their long thin shafts plunge
deep in the grain –

robins twitter
from flickering trees
wind drifts over the churchyard.

Chisels scrape,

a stonecutter pounds,

footsteps strike the
rainy street as rough steel
scribbles a name.

Wives of carpenters
linger at home;
wives of stonecutters
roll in their sleep.

Hollow spaces
must be filled and
mahogany dreams of a body.

Dark clouds
drift through
churchyard gates
as nails and chisels
slumber.

A clock ticks,

a white shroud flutters.

A rustle sounds in the chamber.

Black crows rise
as mahogany dreams
a rustling body
advances.

Footsteps
drift as the dark
wood waits,
workers grasp their tools....

Starlight slides
down the slope of
evening.

Dawn seeps
over the
hills.

Morning rises,
robins twitter.

Sunlight marbles the
churchyard.

At home,
wives glance
at empty beds,
eyes and mouths
despairing.

Mahogany clings to a body.

A body clings to a shroud.

A carpenter sprawls
near an opened
box,

a stonecutter
bleeds on his stone.

A rustling stops in the chamber.