Hazardous Work Poem by Belle Violet

I wonder;
when you're all surrounded by tools,
when you're high on a roof
with tar on your boots,
or under heavy dark clouds
that threaten to pound
you with raindrops
while you work in the dirt;
when you wear your tool belt,
when you caulk and you grout,
and you're on your knees
until your back hurts;
with paint on your jeans,
while you level wood beams,
and the drywall dust
is making you more salt than pepper;
when you're holding your hammer
in the clamor
and clatter
of table saws and power drills;
do you ever stand still
and forget everything?
Get so distracted,
my handsome contractor,
that the only nails you can think of
are my nails on your back?
And
as you imagine
my legs wrapped around you,
do you tune out that racket
of clanking, of thumping and squealing,
because the only sound you can hear
is me,
moaning your name in your ear?