Annette Skade Basil Bunting Poetry Competition Third Prize

Annette Skade

Basil Bunting Poetry Competition Third Prize

Slant

 

Do it slow and do it right, he was told,

made him keep a rolled newspaper

under his arm to steady him as he tapped,

sent him for stout to keep the dust down.

 

No apprentice now: carpentry is dry work,

stonecutting’s wet and out in all weathers.

Inside, he’s all day standing,

puts down matting for the cold coming up.

 

He scratches a line in the raw slab:

Valentia slate, every bit as good as marble,

angled like the headstones

he adds names to in the graveyard.

 

He likes a mallet carved from apple root,

turns it a tenth of an inch as he taps,

uses round-headed chisels to stop the wear,

guides the blade like part of his hand.

 

He cuts in a V to the centre of the letter,

so the shadow can show up the words,

gaining depth as he goes.

In a hundred years you’ll still read it.