At the labor day parade
you smiled and waved
from your place in the
union procession
The sheetmetal workers
who came by after you
didn't throw candy or beads
they handed out mini toolboxes
the old fashioned kind
with the handle on top
made by their local's apprentices
Mine sits on my desk
holds my teacher tools
in the summers it's filled with clothespins
In three days time is this year's parade
I know I should go but I won't
You aren't there now and I can't risk
Not catching a glimpse
Of your cheekbones and sandy brown hair
Rather heartbreaking, as many of your poems are. And I like the details, like the clothespins in the mini toolbox. (On a non-poetic note, I really like the idea of handing out mini toolboxes on Labour Day.)
ReplyDeleteHis story, your story together, is heartbreaking. Your writing has been stunning. And I love that you have a minitoolbox. That's freakin' cool.
ReplyDelete"I can't risk
ReplyDeleteNot catching a glimpse
Of your cheekbones and sandy brown hair."
whimper.
Wonderful, and so very sad. Agree with Helen about the toolboxes.
ReplyDeleteMali said what I wanted to say.
ReplyDeleteSo sad. So well done.
ReplyDelete