Stain

Stain

By

Lisa A.Williams

Hands-

dirty

no pureness

could erase.

Eyes-

tired,

dark

remnants

from so  

many years

in the confines

of a modern day

sweatshop

 The bitterness

of regret

for seizing

a livelihood

which beckoned death

with each passing year.

The wood-

its smoothness,

 bathed

in the dark stain

of pretty poison

summons the riches

of buyers

who wish

to lavish homes

with the labor

of

a poor man’s hands.

Another man gives

up the ghost

amidst toxic

occupation

to feed a family

he leaves behind.  

His passing

haunts his child’s heart.

Another man dies

in his living,

this time, it is my father.