Salvage

your breaths fall on my cheek
I never knew
that touching, being held
could mean so much

you agree make me
for the first time
not broken or wanting
with the glue
of understanding, say
as a child you were
"always in the way
or doing something wrong"

then give me more of yourself
how you salvage damaged stuff from skips
"The wood's fine but what it was made into
was not so good"
and I realise that's why
the bed head and odd shelves I fell over
coming in are are here

for you show me a chessboard
you've crafted that well
I cannot feel the joins between
squares of rich mahogany
and pale pine
yet you're so unsure of its beauty
when I look at the knots
you explain how hard they are to cut through
fret "Do they detract from the design?"
but they're its character, I opine

Next you fetch a doll's cabinet
and thrilled as a little girl
who played with brittle plastic
that could not be fixed
I slide tiny perfect drawers
marvelling at your skill
while you say it's more
than most people can afford
offer to give it me

unwrap a bag of runes
relate the signs
state yew is your favourite grain
I stroke the discs lingeringly
smooth as your fingers
ask if you'll make things again?

"I have to be in the right mood..."
put in my lap
the carving of a Phoenix
"rising from the flames
though it looks more like a dove..."
I think it's both : rebirth and peace
wings taut with the grace of flight
caught in a blink of stillness

in your arms on the sofa
I cannot feel the join between us