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      December 26, 2023CarpenterRodney Waschka II

      We waited. We always
      waited
      for him to finish jobs.
      No one was allowed to tell
      specifically
      what they wanted.
      No measurements. No descriptions.
      Just name it
      desk chair shelves cabinet and
      show the room. Then
      wait.
      But when it finally came
      desk to write the perfect letter
      chair to rest a lover
      shelves to hold a life of books
      cabinet to secrete the finest brandy
      how we touched and touched. Fingers
      gliding along surfaces. Palms cradling
      corners. Forearms measuring strength.
      Lumber brought back to life.
      A month before he died
      we said beds.
      They appeared without wait. Amazed,
      we asked.
      We thought it a little joke
      when he said:
      I haven’t much time.
      Now sleep:
      at desks
      on chairs
      against shelves
      our children in his new beds
      and he in cabinet smooth arms of wood.

      from Issue #9 - Summer 1998

      Rodney Waschka II

      “I work hard enough at my regular job of composing contemporary concert music that it’s not clear why I write—I certainly don’t need more art trouble. Maybe it’s because I was briefly a student of the fine poet and teacher Richard Sale.”