Piercing in tone, More Callas than Bocelli, Your throat holds your song, Mine seethes in my belly

Avast, ye scallywags! I be a parley, a price's free fall, A verbal duel 'til one gives their all. Less wit o' machine, more grit in yer teeth, What be I, where bargains ye seek underneath?

I shimmer, I vanish, I barely stay, I can light up the dark, then fade away.

Five nails go into me, they all remain seen. I can also be a wood. The scent is fresh and clean. My name starts grainy: coarse, rough, getting everywhere. Without my straps, I'd be a lone sole. Your feet would be left bare.

I’m planted to divide but grown to obscure, A promise of safety that’s never quite sure. I soften a stance without taking a side, Let profit or blame slip safely inside. In words I’m a fence with flexible edge, In soil I’m the line you politely won’t pledge.