State Funeral for the Sanitation Worker
Everyone came out and lined the street
To see the hearse roll by,
Flags trailing behind it
All work stopped
Just for a moment
For a few minutes of respect
Someone said they saw the accident
No, a rumor, they knew someone who said they saw
It didn’t matter, everyone had heard the story
The garbage man killed on the job
A freak accident
All agreed it was a tragedy
But it was the children who wept most
Fascinated as they are by the work
By trash and trucks
And god, the trucks that day,
As just then the march came:
A gleaming phalanx!
Dozens of garbage trucks
Even an antique out from the museum
All adorned with pristine coveralls
We took off our hats
Children waved
The solemn parade marched on
As the crowd dispersed
A teenager whispered, “I heard
They used to do this for police”
No one believed him.
“How dare you,” said another
“Insult the dignity of the sanitation men like that”
The streets were quiet
And clean (no one had dared litter)
We went back to work
The trash in the alley
Would wait til tomorrow
For the strong hands of sanitation men
If only we could raise an army of the dead!
Then we might have a chance
Imagine: broken faces and distorted bones
Crushed by work, spear, whip, and ship
Solemnly taking over boardrooms
How sweet their revenge would be
Those deprived of all
That would be a vicious poetry
Without apology. And how lucky for us
Then we might have a chance
No! They have suffered enough
How could we ask for them to fight for us?
We who live must wage war
Before our bodies are crushed
How could there be any other choice?
Matthew Sekellick
Matthew Sekellick is a writer and artist from Upstate New York now living in Philadelphia. His work has appeared in Peach Mag, Protean, Jacobin, HowlRound, Theatre Journal, and Studies in Musical Theatre.