Musing on Gloves and Gardening

gloves3Bruises, calluses and slivers live next to
Cuts, scrapes and blisters. My hands my
Only hands have become a gated
Community of environmental abuses
Heaped on my hands, my only hands.
Branches, cheap plywood and aged shovels
Release their frustration in sadistic practices
On my hands, my only hands. My naked hands,
My only hands sing for protection, sing for
Gloves. Sirens, my hands are sirens, calling for
Gloves, calling for help. I know who you are.
I know. I will not wear gloves.

About joegergen

To evoke a smile. That's all. Author of "Methane Wars: A Fable" and "Lear's Fool" as well as various poems and some these painting things as well.
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Musing on Gloves and Gardening

  1. dogyard says:

    Or by moving in to a condo my hands will seek their rest……

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