Sample Poems by Robert
Collins
Henry always smoked his
lunch
and strove to please the Man.
Though he'd mastered every job
in
Bread
and Buns, could clean
and reassemble all of the machines
and run them smoothly,
the Blue
Caps smelled his fear and kept him
in his place. His light skin pocked
with freckles, a boyish man, Henry
rarely spoke above a whisper;
Henry never had
a chance.
Relief Man My last
summer at the bakery
I was named the long relief man,
(no more mopping up for
me),
capable of running each machine,
racking pans or catching
them,
whatever challenge came my way.
While it didn't take me long to warm
up
in the heat the ovens exuded,
every day I came in several hours
later than the
starters on shift two
and gave them breaks and lunches,
moving from position to
position.
By then I sported facial hair
and kept a tattered paperback
of
Armies of the Night stuffed
in the rear pocket of my work
pants. As if I were
actually able
to read anywhere on the job,
one Blue Cap ordered me to leave
the
book in my locker and retrieve
it when I went on break or
lunch.
Apparently reading was subversive
as was the mustache I now wore.
All
summer I worked twelve-on,
twelve-off, dreamt I was in a jam
I'd never work my
way out of without
allowing major damage, and missed
Woodstock. My last day on the
job
I went sixteen, by the end of twelve
my left leg numb all the way up to my
knee
thanks to a high-school cartilage tear.
Though I'd proven myself good enough
to be guaranteed a contract years before,
(even the Skipper had praised me),
I
finished my stint as long relief man
without a single win or save all
season.
Drinking with the Second
Shift Four years and they only asked me once
toward the end of
my sentence to grab
a beer when we finished our shift at dawn
at a seedy tavern
I'd never noticed before
just a few blocks away from the bakery.
It was a sign that they'd
accepted me at last
and felt I might be trusted-hardly a major
concession since
we wouldn't be working
side by side much longer. As the guy who ran
the divider
shook a flurry of salt into a glass
of draft he'd ordered to put a head on it,
we jabbered
about everything and nothing-
baseball, bread and buns, and Blue Caps.
They
asked about the year ahead at school,
my last if all went well, (little did I know
how close I'd come to failing), urging me
again to hit the books and earn my
sheepskin
as if they shared in my success. Strange as
it might've seemed drinking
beer at dawn,
(the first of many occasions), I was shocked
and immediately saddened for
reasons
I couldn't explain as our table got up to go
and a well dressed
businessman, on his way
to the office to dial his first client, swept
into the joint without
saying a word to the man
behind the bar, a row of trembling doubles
of the bitter
vodka he guzzled already poured.