It took him twelve round months
to spin a nest of tables out
of hazel wood, oak, and the spaces
between the weft and weave of time
inside his wordless wooden heart.
And on the night that it was finished,
a family – of mouse and bird
and cat – lay down inside the nest
of tables, making it their home;
as unexpected as that seems.
Your protestation – ‘Mouse? Bird? Cat!
What sort of family is that?’ –
fell flat upon my ears. And yet
you never questioned that a nest –
a nest! – might be made from tables,