Read me the paper Uncle
Loud enough to hear in the kitchen
Touch it for me, turn those pages
Aunties and I are cooking the dinner
hands must be kept clean.
But in your place by the fire
the beige recliner squeaks
on the back-beat of your rocking,
toes slide in and out of slippers
leather stretched out and soft
as a first basemen’s glove
Calloused hands turn each inky page
of the Sunday review
headlines shout at us
while we chop onions
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Shannon Laws is a Pacific Northwest poet. Her story-telling poetry has touched many hearts and minds. She is the author of four poetry books, the most recent “Fallen” published by Independent Writer’s Studio Press. Shannon has received two Mayor’s Arts Awards and the Community Champion Award for promoting local artists on community radio and encouraging peace and understanding through community poetry events. She makes her home in Bellingham, Washington, USA.
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2 thoughts on “Poem: Ink Stained Hands”
Love the duet of goings on in this poem. Captures a precious family moment.
shannon p. laws 
Love the duet of goings on in this poem. Captures a precious family moment.
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Thank you still life, for all your visits and great comments. My Uncle, would really shout out the stories to us. Its a warm memory.
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