Poetry of Issue #7        Page 30

En Pointe

I have an apron full of overdue
so I secret hand jobs and blow jobs
on plastic furniture, in dirty breakrooms,
stocked with rat poison and bleach.
Boss skin rancid and mine
not that much better.

My secrets are headaches and cramps
I take to work with me. I secret Kleenex
from the bathroom, stuff it in my Kotex
on heavy days. Something hot drips
down my tired legs. Thank Kmart
for black polyester, pants that hide stains
when I’m on clean up duty, throwing away
napkins drenched with ketchup.

My secret is an assault of 180/120 on a good day.
My world is yellow static when I can’t afford
or forget to take my meds. I saw an ad on the subway,
a couple on a Caribbean adventure. I have no time
for adventure, unless there’s an hour between jobs,
when I put my feet up and watch Dancing with the Stars.

I close my eyes and I am diva born,
feather light, a spirit raised up by angels.

  Vicki Iorio