The Jobless Father
His hands know work the way the lungs know air,
Calloused palms that built and hauled and never learned despair
Until the plant closed and the severance ran dry
And the mirror showed a man who couldn’t look his children in the eye.
He fills out applications like he’s writing eulogies,
Each rejection letter stacking up like fallen leaves.
The pride that used to keep his spine as straight as rail
Now bends him at the kitchen table, face gone pale.
Morning comes with bright news, an interview, a lead to chase,
A neighbor’s tip, a handshake, hope returning to his face.
He straightens his one good shirt, and walks out through the door,
Because a father’s love won’t let him quit, not now, not ever more.