Shattered Sonnet after Olena Kalytiak Davis
It all starts with contracts
and hours and pay. Kanye
West type energy. Ask
what I do for work and weep.
Supply chain programs out east,
industrial components
tell me you work in sales without saying
it. Speak of heros. Wear a scarf inside.
It is sixty-nine degrees outside. Gotta
work on synergy. I love Michigan State dude
the (frat house) there is (blows air) gorgeous.
I worked at home today.
I just was like not feeling it.
Choose the days
he works from home. Finds his brother a job.
The incestuous pit of corporate America
is an abyss. He forgets Marquette, UW-M
are Division 1 schools; he could only think
of UW-Madison. Sounds about white. He thought
Michigan houses Marquette. He (laughs)
if you ever get a lawyer make sure
they didn’t go to a Wisconsin school.
He has no idea. He has no ideas.
He is the embodiment of AI, employed at a salary
beyond his means. My beer turns stale.
He will misname neighborhoods
like he could fathom our history.
The transplants, like organs, are obvious
when they don’t come from a body.
How the sun shines, brighter than ever,
and you seem to walk between the drops.
The bus stop is empty and the bus is full.
The glorious rain stops. The day is over
because once you get home, all plans cease.
The laundry burns a hole in the bin. The trash
heaps. But the bathroom is clean. The dishes
shine. The day is swiftly swept away.
The mist is a portal that never rests.
Oliver Antoni Krawczyk hopes we, each and every single one of us, can make it to 2030. He urges you to do whatever small thing you can to build, brick by brick, a world in which we can grow. Let’s dump the algorithm in favor of our neighbors, our wellbeing.
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