Halved Wood

The splintered shelf,

leaning in the garage corner

for months, finally met its end.

An old pine, warped and gray,

the kind that splinters

if you look at it wrong.

The teeth of the saw

bit deep, then stuck.

A groan, not mine, but the wood's,

as the blade fought its way through

the grain, the old knots.

Dust like powdered history

fell on the concrete floor.

One last push.

The separation.

Two halves, uneven,

rough where they'd been joined.

No longer a shelf,

no longer one thing.

Just a clean break,

a ragged edge,

and the sudden, quiet space

where the tension had been.