These hands have toiled,
sweating, rough and bleeding.
Continuing on.

The body,
my great furnace,
driving forward
in the heat of the day,
wanting,
desiring collapse-
continuing.

Stiff and brittle claws,
frozen,
my hands have been.

Mind,
body,
spirit-
slowed by fatigue,
numbed with pain.

Siphoned by parasitic quotas.
Besieged by ruthless taskmasters,
until
the day’s end.
When I might rest
from,
the labor,
of the day.