All of the grit of two hundred souls'
(Milk, motor oil, pork shoulder, laundry soap...)
Settles into my left elbow
And both my knees
Like the black soot
Ground from ball bearings.
I squat to retrieve an errant coin.
Knees protest and I wince,
Gripping the edge of the counter.
Come on, arms, elbows -
You must hoist this heavy baggage, too!
found an old poem from baby felix
3 weeks ago