There Is A Knotted Branch That Hangs (early 1990's)

There is a knotted branch that hangs
just beyond my windowed walls
barkless, smooth, sculpted, twist of a thing -
when it rains it softens and I
have many a time pressed my fingers
deep into its meat, giving way, living
stick but it is always just as smooth
and slick the next day, no imprints
to give me guilt to go along with the
crime I know I've committed I mean,
I could saw it off, I suppose, but why
would I want to do that? To feel guilt?
That would be rather silly, and besides,
I like the feel of the thing when it's wet
and shaking in the wind, taking the
weight of my press, taking it, and enjoying
the way the raindrops catch in the craters
for a second longer than usual.