He takes out his almost too large wax box.
Picking and choosing which tools to use.
As he prepares the ski he prepares his mind for work.
Brushing…
Pushing the copper alone the luminous black base,
Cleaning the wounds from the battle fought that day.

He moves tip to tail.
Stroking the ski
He uses strong force but it is his soft touch that cleans the skis.

His hair is now the bristles of copper and nylon.
Straps that once held his hand are now his arms.
His body is now the wood that separates ski from a hand.
Brush and stork,
He moves down the ski.