Saturday Afternoon Remodeling the Camper

by | Mar 19, 2013 | Poetry

When I was young, one of my chores

was to fetch wood for the woodstove.

Often the pieces would freeze together,

so I would have to hammer them apart.

I was small, but the cold was big. The sound

was big, and it’s still out there, waiting around

with the winter. Hammering. The fall

is here; the sound, I hear it now – it falls

into me as I sleep (as simply as leaves

falling into the grass). My husband and I

and our dog sleep piled together like logs.

Even in the light of the harvest moon,

I cannot tell what or who it is that tries

to hammer us apart. Small things chill me.

When my husband stands under the trees,

I cannot tell where he stops and the leaves

begin. We were working on the camper.

I was painting. He stooped with the welder.

He sturdies things – the camper, the trailer,

and I asked him to weld us together.

I held out my arms for him. I got down

on my knees and begged him, but I held

a paint brush in my hand (perhaps he thought

I was painting the camper’s underside),

and the welder was loud, and the wind

was blowing through the trees, and the leaves

looked really pretty in the afternoon light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Photo by Paula Bailey

About The Author

Jan LaPerle

Jan LaPerle (Matthews) is from a small town in northern New Hampshire. She lives in East Tennessee with her husband, Clay Matthews, daughter, Winnie, and dog, Morty. She has poems and stories in Pank, Rattle, BlazeVOX, Subtropics and other places, too. She has an e-chap of flash fiction, Hush, published by Sundress Publications and a poetry collection, It Would Be Quiet, just out from Prime Mincer Press.