Clocked In

Clocked In

 

 

 

I can still see your face as it makes

its way down the walk

 

of all the years stacked against you;

when food and money rarely met –

 

winters that lasted past the welcome

mat; jobs were jobs, careers were for

 

the lucky genes on the other side

of those divisional tracks – but you

 

always did whatever it took to put

food in stomachs, no matter how

 

soul-sucking it was. “Get an education” –

a phrase for dreamers; “Get a job” was

 

your speech. Still, I could see the pride

in those eyes – a pride that announced to

 

the world that you might be bent

in all different ways, but never broken –

 

in our world, that was like a trophy;

no shame in honest work, no shame at all

 

as I punch the clock with both hands,

winter creeping up my backside

 

---

 

 

Cathy Porter‘s poetry has appeared in Plainsongs, Homestead Review, Chaffin Journal, Pennine Ink, and other journals. She has two chapbooks available from Finishing Line Press: A Life In The Day and Dust And Angels. She lives and works in Omaha, NE and can be contacted at clcon@q.com