Drywalling, yes, it’s shitwork
but to do right you have to respect
the craft of it. Big dumb sheets
of gypsum. Dimpled nails. Mud,
gray butter. Paper tape can wiggle
like worms. A glorious fuss
of muscle and dust.

Smooth or texture,
whichever, an art.
Loud bad music,
essential to the task.
The notes embed,
remain as echo.

Satisfaction that lingers,
the quiet pleasure of a simple wall
built well. But press an ear
to the surface, long after,
hear the hammer, the music
like laughter.

– Joe Cottonwood