Caulk Man

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Emily Jo Scalzo

Daddy was a caulk man,

wandered the house, caulk 

on his fingers, staining 

his clothes, daubed on 

his face, caulk gun in hand

plugging crevices,

defeating drafts. 

Ash from the chimney 

coming in from the ceiling?

The remedy was caulk. 

Drafty house? Caulk around 

windows, plugging cracks 

by doors. Too much?

Daddy didn’t care. 

The man was obsessed. 

Once he used a whole cartridge 

on a broken sliding glass door,

and the contractor who fixed it

after winter cussed up a storm,

spent longer sawing through caulk

than the entire repair took. 

Daddy didn’t care—kept caulking

cracks in the drive with masonry

repair caulk, refractory caulk around

the fireplace, rubber caulk on gutters

& roofs, latex silicone for waterproofing,

acrylic latex for baseboards and 

everything else in the house. 

The man was obsessed,

gave me a caulk gun

when I got an apartment

with several types of caulk,

and by god I used it

around leaky windows 

and drafty doors,

wandered around with caulk

on my fingers that first winter

plugging up the crevices,

sealing it up airtight 

against the bitter cold

just like Daddy taught me,

cuz Daddy was a caulk man.