There’s this static noise

In every phone call

Getting harder to ignore

As the days go by

 

An unspoken truth:

 

That he is tired of the early sunrises

And 4-hour train rides

But as his mind drifts away on the 7 train

His heart never forgets his family

So he wakes up

 

Next stop: Jamaica, Queens

 

Picking up a tool filled backpack

Clinging from thin straps

He says a small prayer

Before starting his day

 

At the other end of the line

 

Is a daughter far away

With pencils and papers

A yellow mustard bag

Heavy with hopes

 

That one day…

 

Her father wouldn’t need to

Inhale asbestos

And Cough up dust and blood

And her mother wouldn’t need to

Stand on her knees

Wiping apartment floors

As her legs bleed.