11/13/12
My hands bear a good hurt,
a deep soreness at the base of the thumb,
this is what work feels like.
Shovels and dirt and rust and hammers
I've become out of practice, my hands
preoccupied with rest and comfort.
I don't miss the cuts, the nicks and scrapes
until they're back. I don't miss the ache
until it's throb knocks at the doors of my bones.
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