As the wake of a storm is untender,
so his raw hands at their work:
fingers like whirlwinds
tucking fury into the wood,
sandpaper palms
spewing floods of dust,
and the calm illusion
of the knuckles always still.
so his raw hands at their work:
fingers like whirlwinds
tucking fury into the wood,
sandpaper palms
spewing floods of dust,
and the calm illusion
of the knuckles always still.
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