Today's poem is by Nancy Scott

The Ship Builder

Perhaps by a quirk of hormonal imbalance
or a reckless moment of indecision,
she's neither a man nor a woman.

In our Victoria's Secret world
she's a nightmare—heavy brow,
ample breasts, and paw-like hands.

With these hands, she builds ship models
with popsicle sticks, tying
intricate knots, fully-rigged sails.

She explains it takes months to finish
a ship, paint and lacquer it, making sure
all the riggings are exactly right.

Suddenly her fingers are nimble and lithe.
It isn't a man or woman I see
but the mainsail taut in a steady wind.

Copyright © 2015 Nancy Scott All rights reserved
from Running Down Broken Cement
Main Street Rag Publishing Company
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission

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