Heartwood Hymn

[Verse 1]
(A cappella)
The Titebond glue on her thumbnail is dry.
Sunday, nine-fifteen, a low grey sky.
(Instruments enter)
A bare bulb hums over poplar grain,
She's kneeling on the floor to fix this thing again.
A split in the leg like a hairline crack,
A memory she keeps sanding back.

[Chorus]
This is her worship, a wordless prayer,
Mending the pieces, smoothing the tear.
The heartwood holding what the years sawed off,
A splinter of faith, stubborn and soft.

[Verse 2]
She measures twice, her breath held in her teeth,
The tenon and mortise, a fragile belief.
He built it himself, used to laugh and say,
"This thing's got better bones than the TVA."
She clamps the joint with a surgeon's care,
Alone with the dust motes in the air.

[Chorus]
This is her worship, a wordless prayer,
Mending the pieces, smoothing the tear.
The heartwood holding what the years sawed off,
A splinter of faith, stubborn and soft.

[Bridge]
The dowel won't set, the angle's a lie,
The whole damn frame is starting to cry.
She slams her fist, a sharp, splintering crack—
(Guttural shout)
DUST!
(A single, massively distorted guitar chord rings out and decays)

[Outro]
The quiet returns to the crosscut saw.
A perfect joint for a permanent flaw.