Carrying our Babies and Crankcases in their Arms
Fred Voss

Why do we kneel before a king sitting on a throne with nothing to do
why are our magazine covers
full of celebrities
why is the billionaire born to his wealth leaning on the railing of a cruise ship sailing
around the world high class
why do we worship his satin hands and the silver spoon in his mouth
men
who go down into mines
crawl under houses
carry our garbage clean our chimneys rivet together our airplanes carve
our engine blocks stamp out our bed springs serve our meals oil
our gears blast holes
through hills lay pipe lift loads carry
water heave crankcases buff aircraft skins polish
shoes stir soup
drive trucks across the country through thousands of desolate midnights
calibrate scales cut jewels
mend socks drill
holes down through miles of rock to save miners trapped
in cave-ins bail
the radioactive water out of melted-down
nuclear reactors clean the bed sheets
steer the ship crack the nut
what is the crown of a king compared to the callouses
on their hands the aches
in their backs the muscles
in their wrists and forearms and thighs and thumbs they
charge our batteries
slip rings on the fingers
of brides crawl under cars touch their fingertips
to 440 volts hold
dying soldiers in their medic arms fix mainsprings grip
needle-nosed files jackhammer handles crucifixes
before they storm Normandy Beach what is fame
when you can talk a suicide away from the ledge
over the phone
carry the baby out of the flames
cut out the bolts that hold our cities
up
why should a trumpet blare a fanfare for a king
when it can blow a Miles Davis solo
so beautifully
it saves a thousand lives?