Painting Day

Painting Day

Poem by Cory Funk
Photo by Scot Siegel

Scot manhandles the pocked
Pickup into the deadpan lot,
The tarmac infernal with heat.
Hinges suffer meekly the brutality
Of the slamming door.
That is the language
His juvenile anger speaks.
He does not want to paint,
A nursery least of all.
Murderous is the stabbing
Look that darts over blistering
Pavement to my “Huh”.
Cover the Earth! the slogan
Emblazoned on the chipping
Placard with a globe drown
In red paint. That is what
We are here to do after all,
Drown out his world
Of kegs and joints by
Slathering a layer of parenthood
Over his damaged sheet rock.