Braced

The wind is rattling the siding

but the shelf hasn't shivered.

I remember the way the drill slipped,

tearing the head of the screw into a silver crater

that wouldn't take the bit anymore.

I left it there, buried in the stud,

ugly and permanent.

Even now, if I press my face to the wood,

I can smell the pine dust

hiding in the carpet,

something I made that actually stayed

where I told it to.