I Count The Holes They Leave

Now that you’re gone
I work in silence
I don’t know what to play

you never understood that
about me
what I decide
and how I don’t

you are out there
in the field along side me
sewing crops for the shareholders’ profits
so we can continue to live in tiny rooms
at the feet of their gates

you always play music
you make a sacred ritual of the mundane
repetition of the work
you remind me we are lucky

to get to work in the field
to have the opportunity to do it well

to have the choice to work
to music

or to sit in silence.