Work Boots: Still Life

POEM BY JIM DANIELS

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Next to the screen door

work boots dry in the sun.

Salt lines map the leather

and laces droop

like the arms of a new-hire

waiting to punch out.

The shoe hangs open like the sigh

of someone too tired to speak

a mouth that can almost breathe.

A tear in the leather reveals

a shiny steel toe

a glimpse of the promise of safety

the promise of steel and the years to come.