Rosie Stockton


sky crumples on the way to the workday my least dear fact 
that only exists in its performance of my dutiful
choral citizenship proclaiming   I work 
lush owedness high drama in the rain something rugged 
makes fatty my emotion & it will only be a matter of time, they sing
until my invocation becomes a hiring notice and I realize
I didn’t mean to ask for money I meant to ask for a different
set of relations 
and if they kill me or my house the proof of occupancy
won’t be made of matter it will be made of anger 
and mattering
is swept behind a workforce stumbling on gritty rules and sorrow
but    I work
I will have to remind them as if to prove aliveness 
to outshine my debt’s reputation 
before the sentence begins