Autobiography no. 19

THOCK
THOCK
THOCK

Chips of Spanish oak jumped into my hair
and I wished for a pair of safety glasses.
I became too conscious that my shoes were no protection
from the blade of the axe that glinted silver in the afternoon light,
but I swung again because I was confident I could fell the tree safely
and my form was well practiced and calculated to cause no injury
and anyway my love wanted a more clear view from the kitchen window
that the limbless leafless creature was unconscionably obstructing.
Suddenly as I prepared to swing again a wraith appeared at the corner of my vision
and I slowed my hand as the damn white dog jumped up at me and licked at my heels.

Before I began I had imprisoned her on the deck, poorly,
and so she escaped and nearly killed herself
on the back end of a swinging four pound hunk of metal.
I would have put her inside the house but she’s so goddamn dirty from the rains
and I would have chained her up outside but I don’t have a chain or a leash long enough
and now that I am inside drinking a beer
I am not sure I wanted to cut that tree down today.