First woodwork lesson in my new school.
Mr Woodiwiss - apt name! - is asking
What would you would like to make?
An execution block, I say.
(The block is for my Uncle Bill.)
Reputation would suggest
sir should roar displeasure,
vault the bench perhaps,
throw something my direction.
he does not even take exception,
sits talking ways and means with me.
A word of explanation:
why an execution block for Uncle Bill?
To help him with his Christmas role:
The Lord High Executioner of Turkeys on the lawn.
And he comes THIS close to using it
(My thumb and forefinger
all but touch. I hold them up.)
Dark night. The only light
streams from the bathroom window.
The turkey's neck is on the block,
the hatchet raised
the light goes out.
The pitch-dark night
turns lighter shades of blue
as Uncle's language spills into it.
But Uncle Bill's performance
more disappointing one.
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