Sorry I have not commented for a while have been away. The working man
intrigues me very much at the moment so here is another one.
Salt of the earth
These men are like that, strong capable
biceps like footballs, crawling under cars
over mountains, smelling of testosterone
and musk. Their brain in their hands as
well as in their trousers. Hearts like lions
with growls worse that a bite. Watch them
at work, shoulders bare to the sun, legs
anchored to the earth. Not a word of a poem
drips from their mouths, only the smudge
of a fierce kiss from a night of wooing.
With more action than the false words of a
sweet sugar daddy, men of grit never
melt in the heat of a snatched summer kiss.
They recreate and procreate, fill the earth
with their kind, lean on their shovel from
time to time, smile and let the sweat of
their labour fall to the ground.
Sally James
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