by Walter Bargen
Diesel exhaust chokes the room. Engines work overtime.
Naked body pounds
against naked body. In perdition’s factory,
they push poverty’s gravity
another thirty days
and balance their lives with time-and–a-half.
The monthly paycheck a week’s resurrection.
Dark fumes, not just the windows open to the street,
but the oily rags of love ready to combust. Continue reading