No one taught you how to lay concrete

Poem Info
130 words
3.2k
0
Poem does not have any tags
Share this Poem

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

But from the hayloft
you and sticky-eyed kittens
watched father pull the hoe
across the lime-crusted wheelbarrow.
You told Mom it was like gravy
in a mashed potato dam.

From Nana’s porch
you saw the gears catch Allen’s fingers.
Held wet washcloths for the blood.
Held wet washcloths over kitten’s eyes
softened crust, drained the puss.

You wiped counters.

The women said,
This is how we fix a broken cake
with icing, use the knife
to even ridges, scrape powder
from the side of the bowl.

Today you do not call for help.
I watch you fill holes,
patch cracks in the steps
that lead to your house.
You scrape excess cement
with the edge of your trowel,
pull it smooth before
before preparing chicken
for the evening meal.

  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
10 Comments
Bill DadaBill Dadaabout 18 years ago
This Poem

is as mundane as mutaual (ah, there is that extra "a" I've been looking for). This poem is as extraordinary as the woman it is about.

WickedEveWickedEveover 18 years ago
not stroking,

just saying it's not mundane.

I did cringe reading about Allen's fingers and the puss. I'm squeamish.

TheRainManTheRainManover 18 years ago
This is fine reading.

I question the structure of the second strophe, simply because it is inconsistent with the rest of the poem.

To me, it looks better this way:

From Nana’s porch

you saw the gears catch Allen’s fingers,

held wet washcloths for the blood

and over kitten’s eyes,

softened crust, drained the puss.

Your human look at every day items is very professionally done. You stay at a distance, and never ever allow sentimentality to creep into your poetry.

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
From Under the Bridge

Sorry. I disagree. Not spectacluar. Mundane. But then I am not in the mutaual stroking society.

lobomaolobomaoover 18 years ago
•) awesome!!!!

the stop gap

patchwork patch job

wordsblended and bended

on your tricky knife

spread thick grouted

to careful lines between

an amazing moziac of images

we all step back and are amazed

swirlly wrilly grrl

Show More
Share this Poem