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
Shannon Laws is an award-winning poet, performer, and advocate for the arts. She has been recognized with two Mayor’s Arts Awards and the Dr. Asha Bhargava Memorial Award — Community Champion. Her work has been featured in numerous journals and anthologies, and she has captivated audiences at esteemed literary events, including the Jack McCarthy Evergreen Invitational Slam, SpeakEasy, Poetry Night, Kitchen Sessions, and the West Coast Tagore Festival.
Beyond her writing and performances, Shannon actively fosters literary
and artistic communities. Since 2022, she has curated Corridor, a monthly
“found-art” zine project that showcases the work of more than 50 contributing
poets and artists. She is also the founder and host of Poetry Club, an engaging
discussion group established in 2015.
View more posts
2 thoughts on “Poem: Ink Stained Hands”
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.
shannon p. laws 
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.
LikeLike
Love the duet of goings on in this poem. Captures a precious family moment.
LikeLike