Jan D. Hodge
grew up in a letterpress print shop in small town Michigan, and earned a B.A. and an M.A. at the University of Michigan, and a Ph.D. at the University of New Mexico, where his dissertion was on Charles Dickens. He taught for 32 years at colleges in Illinois and Iowa before retiring.
His poems have appeared in North American Review, New Orleans Review, Iambs & Trochees, South Coast Poetry Journal, Western Wind, and elsewhere.
—Back to Work Poetry Contents—
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Digging Out a Stump
Shovel, axe, and sweat. For sixty years
the spruce had driven roots in intricate
geometries deep into the dark. So here's
what comes of it: a straining in the gut
and the sting of a split blister as the spade
pries to snapping another of its claims
to earth, though but a slight one. The axe blade
chips at the larger ones.
Aren’t poisons, flames,
or grinders easier? Yes, but understand—
I learned it this way when I helped my dad,
who promised me that work hard on the hand
was good for the soul I wasn't sure I had.
Why do I work this way? Because I can,
and once too often you called me “Old Man.”
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