I made a confession
it took some doing
I shaped it just so
as though I had honest hands
and painful years
of mastery in the craft of it
I planed its nether edge
and inlaid its surface facing corner
I padded its shadows with velvet
then I ripped it back out
see there some soft strands of it
lay scattered still
on my makeshift workbench
It wasn’t quite finished
I could not quite hinge the lid just so
so I skewed it further
the imperfect now perfect
by intention of imperfection
I carried it out into the way
I handed it to a lady I could barely see
with three of her four fingers she accepted it
as if she had expected me
yesterday