Pushcart Prize


My poem “A Day Without Immigrants” has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize by Pirene’s Fountain Magazine.  I wrote it near the beginning of the Trump Presidency; it still is a call to consider today:


You would not see M’s
beautiful smile, or hear B’s
crazy laugh. The steak would be
burned because D had not
cooked that day, the flowers
would wilt and the tomatoes
wither, since L had not risen
early to water. The boxes
would not by packed by T,
nor the parts assembled by J.
The penne with marinara
and the chicken almond ding
and the filet mignon would not
be served by A, M & B, nor
the floors mopped by R.

Your sod would not be cut
and your roofs nailed on
without A through H;
the diapers of our elders not
changed by I through P;
and the mouths of our
toddlers would not be fed
by Q through Z. And yes,
the altar cloths would stay
stained and dusty because A
had not washed, ironed and
lovingly laid them on the wood
as a nest for the body,
the blood and the word.

Yes, they all have voices.
Yes, they all have names.
I will not write them here,
citizens. Some of you have
ears connected to the heart,
but some of you have ears
connected to the whip.
Who will listen to whom?

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