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The man at the front door wants work,
any job. Hand on the knob, I start
to turn him down, to swing the door’s weight
to, but then I consider my mother’s mother.
In Rock Island during the Depression, her daughters
said, she shared the family’s meals with men
who daily knocked to ask for food or work,
her own husband jobless and looking,
but the garden producing, the children usually fed
(stews from the broad beans beside their garage,
the latticed tomatoes and peas down the back,
and, out of black, turned ground, the potatoes,
the carrots). Those who have the least will often
give the most, I tell myself, and shame
on the rest of us, on me. So, I find a task—
trim the hedge—and shears, then watch the man
hack the honeysuckle back in awkward
clumps, his serious face upturned; his arms
reaching, closing frantically; his visible
ribs laddering beneath his shirt.
And he’s not alone. A slight woman in knock-off
sneakers and long, black skirt watches, then drags
brush to the curb; points out spots to clip—
sweep of her index finger, murmur of her voice.
As I count my bills into his upturned palm,
her eyes don’t leave the cash. Something urgent
hangs on this day’s work. Silently she nudges
and harries him away. They must have kids,
I realize; some payment due tonight.
As they disappear behind the hacked hedge,
her open hand circles the small of his back;
her head dips lightly against his shoulder.
Copyright 2023 Sandy Solomon
Sandy Solomon‘s poems have appeared in The New Yorker, The New Republic, The Threepenny Review, The Gettysburg Review, Partisan Review, and Ploughshares. Her book, Pears, Lake, Sun , won the Agnes Lynch Starrett Award from the University of Pittsburgh Press.

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A beautiful poem ✨
“What wisdom can you find that is greater than kindness?” Jean-Jacques Rousseau
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Searingly beautiful.
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Just so.
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So much emotion in this piece, alongside the vivid imagery. Thank you for taking us there.
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Thank you, Tracy.
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An outstanding poem.
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Isn’t it, though?
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I agree with all — loved the poem, & was moved by its deep humanity. But I also must add that the photo accompanying this poem moved me just as much.
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Thanks, Laure-Anne. Yes, the poem and the photo work well together…
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So wonderful!
I love every minute of these words and thoughts!
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Thanks, Shawn.
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“his visible / ribs laddering”—how wonderfully precise and telling! This poem is generous in so many ways. Thank you.
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Sandy’s poems are precise and musical. Her metaphors are never decorative; rather they push the narrative and argument forward. She is, in my opinion, one of the best poets in the country.
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Indeed! And the irony of the title which shapes it all–brilliant and caring…
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Yes, the word Casual is ironic. The man and woman are desperate for work.
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Beautiful poem. Reminds me of times when I have been aided by others in times of need. Reminds me to do the same…always…..
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Yes, the poem speaks deeply to me. I hire the men who come to my door. They shovel snow, weed the garden, paint the garage… Without exception, they’ve been careful diligent honest workers.
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