Workers Elegy

“We swallow antibiotics as indiscriminate as our pesticides

And vote which color to paint our bombs.”

From Jessica Henderson

You wear too-small shoes to the interview and get the job.

I’m looking forward to working here, you say.

The wallpaper creeps up the ceiling.

Time without end, every breath drawn and quartered.

The overlord lifts his gaseous head and belches

You fold post-its into airplanes and wait for your shift to end.

They’ve been doing it for centuries.

Here you are, walking around with your mother’s face

And every day you follow the tread

Of rushed morning, drained evening

Orbiting the larger wheel

Of rushed childhood, decrepit age.

But nevermind.

Put out your square of light

And go to sleep.

We swallow antibiotics as indiscriminate as our pesticides

And vote which color to paint our bombs.

Kill them all and let the gods sort it out.

Our only sacred groves are powerline fields.

After a while

Every wail sounds like a laugh

Every birdsong an elegy.

Curling up at last

You watch the dark foliage shimmer on the covers.

Let the hills meet overhead

Let the moon pull you away.

The earth, midwife, catches the children of the tree.

Pick up a pinecone and bury it

Here, under the trellis 

that was your ribs.

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Jessica Henderson

Jessica Henderson grew up in Los Angeles and currently lives in Boston. Besides poetry, she likes painting, reading, and dancing.