Skip to content

A poem for labor

September 3, 2012

Labor cries do not

make still hearts beat, as

unions pour through

International artery;

workers chained to

other migrants, to boat

people of River Styx.

 

We hold the line.

 

We stand between masses

and authority. We pull

Red string taunt, keeping

bodies from traffic.

Keeping living from dead.

The dead break through.

They are unafraid. They

see newness coming.

They fill our mouths

as we cry out for labor.

Advertisements
No comments yet

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: