john henry At McDonalds
Metal on
Metal on
Metal on metal on metal on metal,
sweat dripping down his back as the young White man
Who had arrived two weeks ago and quickly risen up the ranks
shouts at him to work faster than the train, faster than the engine
with his hammer of broken
slave chains until he collapsed, victorious for a fruitless goal.
But today, today is not
Then.
Today is a new day, POST racism, POST slavery POST all that was wrong in the past
and now john henry works in the air conditioning of McDonalds
racism long Behind, slavery long Behind, all that was wrong long long Behind.
while the young White boy who had arrived two weeks ago and quickly risen up the rank
critiques the way he flips his burger.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.