Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Dad's Shop

By Douglas Polk


Looking out of place,
next to the well-kept barn,

ancient, 

the roof sagging,

a third world hut,
home to various creatures,
working the vise, 
welding repairing machinery, 

movement seen and heard, 
in dark corners behind boxes of parts, 

greasy and oil-stained, 

prayed there were no skunks, 

whenever Dad needed tools from the shop.
I hated that place with a passion
yet now,
how I long to spend a few moments with Poppa’s tools, 
and greasy boxes of parts,
in Dad’s old shop.

Douglas Polk is a writer of poetry from central Nebraska. Feeling persecuted most of his life he has published three books of poetry; In My Defense, The Defense Rests, and On Appeal. He lives with his wife and two boys and two dogs on the plains of Nebraska.


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