Wrists Inclined To Labor

Curling 'round the wrists of men scent of soda, salty skin burning asphalt and the like mentholated, acrid sky Simmered hint of peppermint lager froth and dart board dust brisk of midnight on their brow jaw a concrete bite Silver watches in their glow holding scents of lemon musk brandied oil, wishes too from every girl they've met Work is there right at their wrists melting steel and stamping sleet backward masked and fortunate snap of smoke and sky Earthen ginger, piped and singed braided breath of momentum granite blood and calloused hands centered feet and grease Held at bay in warm appeal shadows way past five o'clock Carved out strong and seared robust these wrists inclined to labor.