My final poem for Poetry Month. A tribute to people doing important, unacknowledged work.
Giants are the smallest men As measured by scales of Job. With poison scorn and fountain pens They slash and jab to rule the globe. In glass towers they strut and spit. The height a craved collusion. Fragility keeps them separate In fantastical delusion. For city smog mugs their glass Dying skin cells dust book spines Ink-stained downsizings fill the trash And stains streak their ample Calvin Kleins. The humble arrive and quietly hedge Their mops, dusters and garbage bins Around the small mighty who can't acknowledge That cleaners are our greatest ones.