Cut by Hand

John McAuley

I order myself
into these lines
working from instinct.


I stick to these words,
to the poem, to the craft
day after day,
driving across my content
stretching a form
to shelter me in my age.


––Soon enough to die
––


My serviceable tent
left in tatters
will flap, aimlessly, against time
& crumble against my bones.