The Carpenter Cook
Cashews almonds and small white truffles
Banks of caramel,
He moves through air thick with spice and oil
He has rubbed his hands in garlic
To ward off flies,
Behind his eyes
A fungus eats at his meringue smile.
Pots and caldrons chocolate syrup
Tarragon and tongue,
Like a whore he beats at unresponsive flesh
And stops his nose with grapes and alcohol.

At night he dreams of the ring of hammers
And sun-lit sweat on clean white pine.

Chapel Hill