What if she stood naked in the garage
by the power tools, the workbench,
the vice handle and the rake head?
What if her hips brushed the saw horse
and the four-penny nails gathered in boxes by her feet?
What if her curls touched the spade,
and she reached just past the saw blades by the drill bits?
What if her lover leaned on the lawnmower handle,
clothes hung on the post holer?
What if the garage door was open?
What if it was midnight and a soft rain trickled off the eaves,
puddling by the doorway,
rinsing off some slight sawdust from the teeth of the chainsaw
splashing on their ankles?