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Woodpile Machismo
by J. Kates

Thock! and my maul splits
birch so white it's
no skin off my nose,
but like the exposed
fictional thighs of a
pornographic lover,
virgin pale and languid, blond
too. I respond.

I am maple, ruddy
and rough — hey, buddy,
you better believe it.
Thock! I cleave it
all: beech, hickory, oak
and send it up in smoke.
Fire and sex all the same
to me, a splitter's game.

I'm bigger than you, and I
wield a heavier axe, my eye
is true (and blue) my passion
hetero and my nation-
ality American. Thock!
I got a belly like rock,
an arm like a goddamn song
and I'm never wrong.

 

(Previously published in The Florida Review)