Summer Job

Five days of this, every week, I thought
As I picked up the sledgehammer
And slung it against the immovable wall.
It was the first day of work and only an hour
Had passed. Still, I had already perspired
Through my shirt and sweat was trickling down my face.

How could I quit this job and still save face?
Then, I remembered my father, and the thought
Was stifled. Yet my mind still perspired
Delusions of swimming as the sledgehammer
Kept time like a clock striking the hour,
Never hesitating. Bits of the wall

Fell down. Voices escaped from behind the wall
Through the hole I had made. I saw black faces
Intent on their work. I wondered how many hours
They had been there. Quickly the thought
Passed as I felt the sledgehammer
Slip through my hands, which had perspired

All over the handle. As I perspired,
A slight breeze slipped through the adjoining wall
And cooled my back. The sledgehammer
Recoiled on contact. Suddenly a face
Appeared, smiling. A smile I thought
I had seen before. “It’s lunchtime: we got an hour,”

The man said. Finally, the hour
Had come. I picked up a drink that perspired
Down my fingers and hand to the floor. The thought
Quickened inside me—when I returned to my side of the wall—
That I could not see any black faces,
Only me. I picked up the sledgehammer

And stepped back. I felt the heft of the sledgehammer
As I raised my right arm and hit the bricks until the hour
Had come for knocking off. Now, I could see the faces
On the other side: each man had perspired
A long day’s work and finally the wall
Was gone. I looked back at my thoughts.

I knew the hour had come for me to face my walls—
To not let my thoughts perspire but take action.
I looked at the sledgehammer standing by.