The Draft

By Jason Ropp

Listen up!
Vagabonds, down and outs,
Embittered, addicts, and wounded,
(even self-shot in foot).
And dare I say it,
Open your ears you
Like-me self righteous,
Apathetic regarding and numb to the
Pumping heart that brings life into
Most repugnant places.

Stop. Don’t read. Listen.

Did you hear it?
Did soft wind work gently
Through leaky old house of heart
With poorly hung doors
And unsure locks?
Did furious love-gale
Raging against needless fall
Bend walls groaning
Further out of square?

Did draft chill you?
Did howl and creak turn you
Again to child with somersault heart?

Because fanner of waterless wave
Is magnificent worker of wood —
A carpenter,
Hanging new doors,
Furnishing home with finest antiques,
Mouth-made by supreme artisan,
Origin of all chair-crafters.
And He finds greatest pleasure in
Well working over
Timbers once carved fresh for
Current tenant ungrateful
With deposit insufficient
To make good on damages due
When time comes to vacate current residence.