a first-generation American
to Scandinavian farmers in Wisconsin
and thousands of miles away
in Washington, the house I now live in
was built in the same year
Recently his wallet was mailed to this house
with its contents intact:
an identification card with no photo
listing his wife for emergency contact;
small cursive words tell me
that between registering for the draft
and renewing his driving license
his brown hair went gray
The leather and thread, tri-folded,
has held its shape and done its job
much like the floors underneath my feet
nailed by strong hands and burnished with oil
passed from one steward to the next
I think about physical labor
whole bodies raising barns
whole bodies birthing babies
whole bodies living out lives
thousands of miles away
hundreds of years apart
and how they build on the same earth
and are buried under the same soil
