h1

Dirty Hands

September 7, 2011

Look,

I’m a teacher.

My hands don’t get dirty.

The chalk dust

is not like the indigo grit of the roofing tar

on my father’s hands

that took the magic globs

of Quickie to remove,

and the occasional paint or paste

can’t compare to the sawdust

caked on with sweat and blood.

Though I know it was his desire

for me to go beyond

his dirty hand blue collar world,

there was something lost.

These clean hands.

This new world.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: