A man wonders did the pictures on the wall seem
duller – dustier?
Looking down at sore calloused hands he thought
How could the dream be over
when the factory was still three miles down the road
and his hands still felt the last piece he had
placed on the line. On the line… The line stopped…
He looks at those pictures again… of his children
His everyday shining rays of sun
in a gray sky and remembers the youngest just last night
asking, “Daddy do you think they’ll take the house?”
in maybe not so many words.
And he lies, “No sweetie I don’t”
as he tussles her hair
Because that is what daddy does sometimes,
but he thinks maybe they will as he wipes a teardrop
from his right eye.
Big men decided his fate in big houses
with white fences, and he wonders if their children’s
bellies were full and if the pictures on their walls
were duller – dustier?