Dimensional Shingles
my father said
that he enjoyed looking
at a full day’s work
from his truck
covered
in grit and sweat
smelling
of beer and cigarettes
when he died
his eyes were closed
surrounded
by the meager fruits
of his labor
I wonder
was it worth it
One thought on "Dimensional Shingles"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
This is a deeply posed and poignant poem