- Home > Archive: December, 2017
The last factory around.
The last factory in town,
but Emily still worked there.
It was a source of shame
for her family,
Came from old money.
And it was beneath her station.
Contrary, she took pride in her work.
Making piano keys
brokered on the backs of owned men
limping through the Congo.
Cartwright loved the holidays.
It felt like parole every year.
He used to always end up in the hospital.
One Christmas it was a 5152
Elevated from a 5150.
Once he got there it was obvious,
he shouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere.
“You’re not drinking? Good for you.”
“It’s good for everyone, trust me.
I’m no longer marching on roads of bones
in warrior mode.”