Maple Man

northern
north
no worth 
when compared to this 
blood orange peeling sky

two calves 
wrapped twice of deer hide
and once
covering the knees
sturdy as Corundum

hands like aged leather
a voice framed in confident humility

his grandfather’s birch-barked bucket sighs over the left shoulder 
with two spile
tucked tightly in the pocket of his jean

“Tap Tap Tap,” says the young man
and from the bark of her skin 
sap climbs out 

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