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Dirty Hands

Gloves will protect you
from the dirt in the ground
as you pot and dig and prune.
Gloves will protect you
from the bugs in the bathroom
and the unclean creatures
invading the scratches of your hard labour.
But nothing will protect you from your dirty work
the kind that leaves dirt on your soul not your hands.
Nothing will protect you from that.
It will soil more than your hands
as it engulfs you, covers you
even when invisible.
You know
and it’s stench will stay with you
You know
that you’ll never feel clean again.

Lynn White lives in north Wales. Her work is influenced by issues of social justice and events, places and people she has known or imagined. She is especially interested in exploring the boundaries of dream, fantasy and reality and writes hoping to find an audience for her musings. She was shortlisted in the Theatre Cloud ‘War Poetry for Today’ competition and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and a Rhysling Award. Her poetry has appeared in many publications including: Apogee, Firewords, Peach Velvet, Light Journal and So It Goes. Find Lynn at: and

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