A Sabbath Poem (Jones)
AFTER WORK
~ by Richard JonesComing up from the subway
into the cool Manhattan evening,
I feel rough hands on my heart–
women in the market yelling
over rows of tomatoes and peppers,
old men sitting on a stoop playing cards,
cabbies cursing each other with fists
while the music of church bells
sails over the street,
and the father, angry and tired
after working all day,
embracing his little girls,
kissing her,
mi vida, mi corazon,
brushing the hair out of her eyes
so she can see.
~ by Richard JonesComing up from the subway
into the cool Manhattan evening,
I feel rough hands on my heart–
women in the market yelling
over rows of tomatoes and peppers,
old men sitting on a stoop playing cards,
cabbies cursing each other with fists
while the music of church bells
sails over the street,
and the father, angry and tired
after working all day,
embracing his little girls,
kissing her,
mi vida, mi corazon,
brushing the hair out of her eyes
so she can see.
(from Good Poems: Selected and Introduced by Garrison Keillor,
Penguin Books, 2002)
Penguin Books, 2002)
