This poem encompasses my experience in the white-collar working world.
Of working until your eyes bleed and then working some more.
It is a poem about modern life and the life that came before, of what we have gained and what we have lost, and in it, I wonder if things are better, today, or if they are worse.
I do not find an answer.
“We Are Something More and Something Less” first appeared in Déraciné in Volume I under the title “We Are” — you can read the issue in its entirety here for free.
We Are Something More and Something Less — A Poem About Modern Life
I
Get to this point in my day
Where my mind goes
Blank
Where my thoughts run like
Crisco
Where everything is
Encased
Where my eyes won’t focus, won’t focus, won’t
Focus
Focus on the screen
And I hesitate over
The last few words
And my boss
Black tie in his hands
Says
“Push through it.”
“Get the hours.”
“Put a stamp on it and call it a day.”
“If you can.”
If you can …
I wonder if my
Ancestors
Got to this point in their day
Where their iron ran
Crimson
With the blood of
Holy men
If their thoughts moved like
Melted tallow from the firstlings
And their eyes wouldn’t
Quite
Focus
Focus on the crushed skulls of the
Monks they’d raped
I wonder if
When the violence was done
And they hesitated over
The last
Begging thrall
If their jarl told them
With entrails in his hands
“Push through it.”
“Throw him into the sea.”
“Put a stamp on it and call it a day.”
“If you can.”
