(–radically revised from an earlier version)

This is a social justice poem

about Jill, 
hanging up and staring at the yard
for so long that it breaks into pixels
and shimmers through tears.

This is a radical empowerment poem 

about how at the shop
her husband Dave, 
after hanging up,  
cries into his sleeve
as he cleans out his tiny locker 
and walks to his truck 
with a box full of 
suddenly unemployed tools.

This is an anticapitalist poem

about a perfect day  
royally screwed up;
about how the last five minutes
have become exactly like
the evening news.

This is a revolutionary poem

on how when Dave gets home
he is met by Jill in the driveway,
and they hug for a long time.

This is a social justice poem

for all those who delight in their gardens
after the world tries to kill them;

this is a war poem

for all those who go inside
and pull out paper and pencil 
to redo the budget;

this is a social justice poem

for Jill and Dave
who have never heard of 
social justice poems, revolutionary
poems, radical empowerment
poems.  For Jill and Dave
who don’t care for poems.
For Jill and Dave
who might lose
the home and garden
to the bank, and who cannot 
pay the mortgage with poems.

This is a poem for Jill and Dave
and like them,

it has no idea what to do right now.