SpitShine
•
he snapped his shine cloth
and shared his stories
tales of joy
tales of pain
of injustice
of his Memphis blues
his beloved big muddy
warm eyes
earthy brown
turbulent as that river
his stare
a deep current
impossible to escape
his voice
a tempered edge
honed by sorrow
sweetened by laughter
broadleaf husky
thick as sorghum
smooth as Beale Street bourbon
his weathered face cut with truth
marked and scarred by years of burden
of witness
each sculpted crease bore testament
to a genuine soul
cracked and seasoned hands
would reach with suffered care
to wrap tailored leather
in polished honesty
callused fingers
yellowed by habit
rolled the rhythm rag
to pull the sheen
with sweat and spit
blood and bone
as if to wipe clear
the broken promises
the failed love
the stain of dirt field
cruel street
back alley
of harsh wisdom
hard learned
the pop and slap
would resonate to fill my ears
the soulful cadence would stir my spirit
lift my worry
and make my step
light as a feather
a spit-shine like no other
will ever be again
• • •
rob kistner © 2008
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photo above entitled: “routine” — by: Tres
• • •
…poem inspired by read write image #6, found at “readwritepoem”