"You've Been Served"
After a bad sleep from midnight shift, I stab at the alarm
and float in limbo time of snooze and worry, toss blankets aside,
tread icy floorboards to the window, scrape at frost
with a fingernail, rub off a crust of mining-town grit.
The sky sulks back, clouds heaped and drifting, threatening
who knows what, like a reflection of the land. Below my window,
a bright blue Ford grinds over rock-hard snow, fishtails to a stop,
and a giant in a business suit gets out, stands by the curb
and scans the pinched and narrow houses on my block, nods to himself
and zeros in on mine. I bolt downstairs and see his shadow
fill the storm-door and before I can react he jabs a shiny oxford
in the gap between the jamb and door, utters a thin-lipped —
“You’ve been served.” Turns an enormous back,
steadies a clipboard, crosses something off.
Of David Salner’s sixth poetry collection, John Skoyles, Ploughshares poetry editor, said: “The Green Vault Heist is not only a beautiful book, it is great company.” Summer Words: New and Selected Poems appeared in 2023. His novel A Place to Hide won first place for 1900s historical fiction from Next Generation Indie Book Awards. His writing has also appeared in previous issues of Pulsebeat, Threepenny Review, Ploughshares, North American Review, and Valparaiso Poetry Review. He’s worked all over the country, as iron ore miner, steelworker, librarian, baseball usher, and in many other trades.
Pulsebeat Poetry Journal 