Tag Archives: Samuel T. Franklin

Tree Bones

Planked and bundled, scraps and shims. Plane them smooth and clean, trim the edges and knobs. Pine curlings like ocean waves flowing down your arm, arbor dust like spilled flour on your boots. Heartwood in my hands, limbs and roots, … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | Leave a comment

Watermelon Surplus

Dead of summer, I’m aproned and sweating at my seasonal retail job, stacking cucumbers, stocking salads, slicing potato sacks—golden, red, russet. We get a watermelon surplus—we truss it all off the truck, extra pallets packed with cardboard bins bursting with … Continue reading

Posted in Poetry | Tagged | 1 Comment