Sunday, April 25, 2010

Sunday Verse: Dorianne Laux -- The Shipfitter's Wife

The Shipfitter's Wife

I loved him most
when he came home from work,
his fingers still curled from fitting pipe,
his denim shirt ringed with sweat
and smelling of salt, the drying weeds
of the ocean. I would go to him where he sat
on the edge of the bed, his forehead
anointed with grease, his cracked hands
jammed between his thighs, and unlace
the steel-toed boots, stroke his ankles,
his calves, the pads and bones of his feet.
Then I'd open his clothes and take
the whole day inside me-- the ship's
gray sides, the miles of copper pipe,
the voice of the foreman clanging
off the hull's silver ribs, spark of lead
kissing metal, the clamp, the winch,
the white fire of the torch, the whistle
and the long drive home.

~Dorianne Laux

2 comments:

  1. To me it's the Statue of Liberty opening her arms wide for the building of the country. Awesome word choice in last sentence. Creates great visual images.
    Not Bukowski...but still incredible.

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  2. The trademark of a good poem is that it can be interpreted many ways and on many different levels, and I think this poem fits that bill.

    "Give me your tired, your poor,
    Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
    The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
    Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
    I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

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