rock quarry woman

she came slowly down the aisle

bearing wrinkled hands that

had been beaten by the sun,

raked by the dry dirt &

cracking---avec

new slices &

deep cuts,

revealing themselves behind the knuckles

where the grip of the rocks

had forced the skin to rip.

aged at least 60 years &

when she made her way to the consultation window

at the pharmacy,

she asked so politely

with a quiet, exhausted voice,

if there was a salve

which the pharmacist could help her find,

which might soothe the fresh cuts.

the pharmacist came out from behind the counter,

walked down the aisle to help her find

some Neosporin,

speaking with her therapeutically

concerning the way that she got the cuts,

hoping that there might be a way that the woman

could avoid such damage to her

withered hands---

and yet,

as the pharmacist walked back into the pharmacy,

sending the rock quarry woman on her way,

s/he knows that such hopes are lost in the reality

that the woman walking away

will know nothing else in life.