Heartwood

Are you craving some time for reflection? Perhaps a copy of Heartwood is in order.
From Eifrig Press’s website: 

Heartwood considers what it means to be human in the Anthropocene—the age of humans. By rapidly reconstituting the atmosphere, oceans, soils, and the living world, are we cutting and shuffling ourselves and our relationships? 

In the face of such destruction, can we still find meaning? Good? 

Through evocations of places, creatures, people, and their impermanence, Peter Buckland invites readers to reflect on being in and of this world.

HEARTWOOD

The stern sycamore slid when the river’s bank quit,

liquefying into quick molasses in the ‘13 flash flood.

One thick mottled branch cracked, drifted on

ripples over stones lain over with

stories the stones don’t remember.

A chisel-jawed man, callous-handed, sat

on a sheet rock where the branch rested.

He hauled it home up Jackson hill.

For nigh on a year he worked his old steel knife,

a finger he loved at his arm’s end.

He scraped it dull, sharpened it again. And

after each stroke he sighed, after each keening

scrape peeled wood that dropped to his feet.

He set his jaw, then looked round the room, quiet

as he’d been since she left for somewhere.

He held it, the fine-sculpted handle he’d made into a broom

to sweep away the heartwood.

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