Dour lumber, destined for a railing by my front step
The split mangled beam
Splintered across the lawn
Ah, that three-eighths inch—
Just the distance represented by the lip of the step
The distance that kept the beam from fastening properly to the house
A miscalculation, but why so unforgiven?
Beam, you defeat me, leave me riven—
Must it be so distant, my desire?
To allow a visit from our intrepid polio-stricken friend, who requested nothing from us but the railing
A neighbor to clamber up and bring us our mail
Elderly parents hoping for a grandchild’s kiss
I’m still standing disjoined on the step
While the limpid beam admonishes me from the ground where it has fallen
Andy Oram
July 14, 2025