Fred

sleep now
the lathe still spins
the plans are laid out

the knives are sharp
the grinder is humming
(empty casings on the table)

sleep now
those planks are sound
that pork is so fresh

sleep now
sawdust falls to the floor
trimmed fat will be rendered
as bits fly down to the sawdusted floor
and all is swept clean

I can’t wake you now
but silently wonder
which brought more joy
your wooden toys
or those sausages