Intertwined Mishaps

My father’s hands
Scarred and cut
Calloused
Rough to the touch
But he was never rough with them
On his right hand
His middle finger is gone
Not completely gone
Just to the second joint
And a smooth seal of skin covers where it used to be
I fail to notice it now
But it seems to be the first thing people notice about him
My father’s hands
Held me on his lap
As we watched endless Antiques Roadshows
My father’s hands
Know the strength of a gun
Know the feel of a hard days work
Know the exhaustion of a factory
My father’s hands
Rough to the touch
But he was never rough with them