Wrap this poem around a brick and throw it

Wrap this poem around a brick and throw it

through the boss’s window

not the window at the office the window

at the boss’s home

let the glass glimmer sharply let the shards

be swept through labor gone unpaid

wrap this poem

around a brick and throw it

in the river tied to the letters from the debt collector

not the letters that say your account is past due the letters

that say they will take what you owe right out

of your paycheck

let the river runoff

shimmer smartly let the silt

that churns and grinds osage orange seeds for want

of mammoth teeth shred the letters too let debt go

the way the mammoths went wrap this poem around

a brick and throw it on the pile

until there’s enough stacked for the landlord to charge rent

not the rent you pay to live

under a browning ceiling not the rent

you pay to listen to your favorite song not the rent that rises

steady as the temperature the seas the misery the people the rent

that says your home will never be yours

let the fury simmer darkly let the rage

loose in a poem wrap this poem around a brick

and throw it