Maybe I am a clumsy person.
Too prone to accidents for this laborious career I have fallen into.
A fact attested to by these scrapes, blisters, each purple-black bruise.
Maybe. Or it could be the isolated, egotistical nature of focus.
Of intense, harsh attention paid out regardless the accumulating cost.
Some one concentrated on the slick wooden handle,
the intentionally cooked shaped cold hunk of metal,
the pin, so that a different someone can hammer.
Apply vigorous, unbreakable mental prowess against the nail.
The board, the steadily forming building built of treated lumber
and sharpened flat-headed metal, and so many hammers,
and some clumsy one working.
Perhaps too distracted by the task at hand
to take good care of his or her own hands.