A man for all time

I remember those hands
blood knocked out of knuckles,
engine oil deep
in the open crevasses
of split dry finger tips.
They had a life he folded
in every crease, hard work
broke away with blister tops
seeping into aching joints.
Dove tailed down each grain
the strain of twisted metal
carried us cupped,
each inch, each foot
every step measured and cut.
Hands to hide under
to swing from,
to turn and run from
A sting from a slap
the twirl of a scratched gold ring
cradled in his lap.
They built our worlds
and never asked for anything back.