He enters through the laundry room,
passes off his domed metal lunch pail,
heavy with the stainless steel thermos that
clips into the top of the box.
Boots off. Stained denim overalls and wrinkled red
handkerchief dropped onto the dirty clothes pile.
Now in his “suntans”: a khaki shirt and loose-fitting
trousers reminiscent of his wartime uniform.
At the deep utility sink, water so hot it turns his skin red.
With lava soap and a bristle brush he attacks the
black tarry substance stuck to his hands and arms.
Soap lathers up past his elbows.
Face washed, hat-flattened hair tamed with a
black plastic pocket comb; only then does he
enter the kitchen and greet his wife with a kiss.
Supper is cooked and waiting for him.
It’s National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo)!
Day Twelve prompt from NaPoWriMo.net: write a poem that recounts a memory of a beloved relative, and something they did that echoes through your thoughts today.
What Rhymes with Stanza? 
Perhaps my dad too!!
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😀
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You’ve brought this portrait to life with such precise details. Wonderful
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Thank you. The more I wrote, the more I remembered.
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Your poem is rich with detail, Maggie. I especially love the way you describe him shaving, which reminded me of watching my grandad at the kitchen sink with soap and razor. I’m curious about the ‘black tarry substance stuck to his hands and arms’.
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Thank you. I’m surprised I remember so clearly.
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You’re welcome, Maggie.
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