Glass Poetry Press

Volume Four Issue Two

Sandra S. McRae

Nice Work If You Can Get It

I'm celebrated for celebrating the uncelebrated. — Studs Terkel in that sense he was a poet, wasn't he? for what do we do but uplift the overlooked hold it to the light like the beggar who sticks his legs out across the sidewalk disrupting others' reverie with uncomfortable truth the child talking loudly shoves the bug in the grown-up's face insisting look the lone protester outside the high glass windows of the Drake throws a rock into the cocktail party we just can't agree with the world on priorities prize prophets over profits just look at our work how it plods along the topography of the heart taking notes endless notes lazy with wonder heavy with metaphor we don't get up when the bell rings leave the windows open all through the storm you can't rely on us when the laundry needs tending the grass is overgrown and now the phone keeps ringing … hopelessly preoccupied we stare at the fine line of light that caresses the piano on a late September noon study the fuzz on a crocus stem memorize with eyes closed the squirm and eager salty breathe of a warm puppy we read the world in Braille with our hands our mouths we feel the thrum and undercurrent of the unspoken our ears pressed to the silence listening to the thundering approach of the invisible