Instrument Poem by Steven Federle

Make me your
hammer.

I’ll pound
the stubborn nails down
til all boards become one.

Let me be a fierce nail,
and I’ll pierce your living flesh,
number all your bones.

My rough hand will smooth
away sin’s sharp edge
and bring low life’s
knot of corruption.

With gleaming blade
will I open a wound
pulsing joyfully in your side

to anoint with living blood
the guilty hands
of soldiers.

So use me, O builder,
and build your house
of many rooms.