Meagan Wilson

the wooden framing and I don’t know what I am doing


Culling for bow she turns
each board upon itself he watches
her study bark and wane imperfections in the
perfect wood. It
                          nearly overwhelms the senses—
her treatment of it. She’ll fit them. Each seasoned
length she leans against the shed its
color to absorb the day to go
purple this heartwood bright bizarrely bright
as it cures in the sun. They are
friendly in a way and shall they say more
waking in her hands will they
wake to those boards full & bright? She’ll rise
early to walk the dog into the
low fog. At the end of town. Beyond it
just the fields she loves.






* “the wooden framing and I don’t know what I am doing” comes from George Oppen’s poem “Neighbors”

Meagan Wilson is from Colorado.