The hammers hung on the workbench wall
each have a ribbon tied to them,
& who knows why or what
each color means. I would not try
to learn his system, his sacred things
measured out just so for a reason
I never want to know. The first room
I remember sneaking into, I passed
a crack in the door just big enough
for me to slide through. God's work,
he'd tell me every morning
before he descended, leaving me
to eat cold cereal & listen to him work.
These, his devotions,
I watched from the stairway, unseen.
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