When my head
fell from the bed
make the best of it
I said, listen
to the floor
and I heard
rumble of the mill
still in the wood,
rasp, split, sighs
of timber
dreamed I rolled
in white pine shavings,
wisps, cedar chips,
covered over and raving
that I healed myself
and back in bed
full of knowing how
to keep myself together,
not caring when she says
I am a wooden man.
Ted McNulty
The manuscript notebook
