Old Man in the Corner

In the dark corner of the bar 

an old man crumpled in his seat

can barely lift his glass

—each pint gets heavier

each day takes more to numb the pain.

He has given up trying to understand the source

of his grief, the reason for his expulsion

from a place, like joy, peace, or belonging.

He knows like blood coursing through his veins 
he was robbed.

Of what? His manliness? His hope?

His tribe. He has lost his tribe.

He has lost his job. And someone

has to pay.

Yes he knows about NAFTA

and the jobs that went to India

and the slick talkers in suits

cutting him loose from the plant

and he knows like the knife

in his stomach that they can’t

be hurt, can’t be touched

by anything he does.

And he can’t tell his buddies

they have cut off his balls.

So when he screams

get rid of all the others,

he means those who are not like him

and throughout his years

of becoming a man

he has become the foreigner

to his own heart.

(Infinite Power, Janet Vickers. Ekstasis 2016)