Poem
Murrey, Matthew
Poem Bulletproof Vest Because one time a gun was pointed at his chest when the man with shaking hands dropped it and it went off, making a hole through the wood shelves. Because the next...
...I’d help my father strap it on over his tee shirt, and under one of his flannel shirts that he would slowly button up before heading off to work which wasn’t any kind of job worth losing your life for— a bar in a bad neighborhood where whiskey and beer were the only drinks, where cashing paychecks was how most of the money was made...
...Matthew Murrey...
...I was just starting high school when he started wearing the vest...
...Because the next time he didn’t see anything, but when he’d opened the register felt something shoved into his back and heard, “All the fucking money in the bag…now motherfucker… or I’ll fucking kill you...
...But it was the job he did year after year, and it paid for the roof that covered me, the sandwich in the sack that I carried to school, and the clothes that I wore: the tee shirt underneath, and the shirt that buttoned all the way up from my smooth belly, to my skinny neck...
Vol. 71 • April 2007 • No. 4
