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Featured Artwork: ‘Hand Studies Charcoal’ by Matt Mozgiel
is meticulous
lithe fingers cupping my cheeks
toned from a thousand hours in latex gloves
quivering with concentration and intent
working tirelessly to come home to his daughter
who’d barrel into his fatigued arms
and the exhaustion would evaporate
is gentle
a sleeve darkened with a hundred of his daughter’s tears
wiped away with more precision than
the most fragile mechanical parts were handled with
an encouraging smile and
an hour-long piggy-back ride
and she’d remember she could fly
is flawed
the first time I saw him cry
pulling off his bronze-rimmed glasses
to wipe the dew off with a napkin
it looked like he had just aged a decade
crow’s feet from frequent smiling
resembled a tree’s rings
memories I hated etched in bark
a bite of my lip, my own guilt
his wounds made me almost regret
but I had meant every word I said that night
hurled like boulders
pierced like a thistle
all the 2 am’s he spent in the lab
couldn’t work away the unrest
the humming of the motor
the radio on the drive home
ensuring never a moment of deafening silence
couldn’t drown out the voices, unsettled and pained
the skilled engineer he had become
couldn’t mend the broken family he had raised
his fingers a calloused caress
a light brush on the shoulder
weighed down with a million overdue apologies
I can’t think of a thing to say
a momentary glance, rivers as eyes
and I know I don’t have to say a word
he gets up, leaving
the room suddenly cold
Wait,
I want to call out
Wait.
I’m not ready for this moment to be over.
