Ode to a Lumberjack
I don’t know a lumberjack,
but I want one to take me in the woods.
Watch them cut down trees to make paper
I will carve my stories on.
They can build a house,
I will maintain a garden for deer
and other woodland creatures.
Supper will always be warm and ready
for when they return after a hard day’s labor.
They can carve sculptures in their spare time.
Of chairs, of clocks, of bookshelves,
perhaps of babies I cannot give them.
Of a bow and arrow
of a baseball bat to protect ourselves.
I will go out with them one day,
help them carry wood,
clean a saw.
If I cut myself by accident they will be there
to kiss and fix it.
I cannot promise the same for them,
but they don’t care.
They like when I dance with the wolves
and sing with the birds.
We will swim in a lake nearby
The fish tickling our skin as we soak up each other.
We never tire of one another
long days apart bring us closer.
We remind ourselves we are not our friends,
our parents, our teachers, our peers who have all fallen out
of love and reality.
We are in both together.
I want a lumberjack to take care of me,
and live in the solitude of the woods.
Amanda May is a senior at Lindenwood University. She is majoring in English Literature with an Emphasis in Creative Writing and minoring in Journalism. When she isn’t writing, she can probably be found screaming or crying (or both) about Star Wars, anime, or Florence + The Machine. She can be found on Twitter and Instagram @Amandalorian451