On the factory floor...

a teen fell into

the industrial-size meat grinder,

literal not metaphorical

for our hungry mouths

that churn and chew and spit out

our young onto epoxy-coated concrete,

our bloated bellies never satisfied,

demanding more, an ever-expanding hunger,

we believe in perpetual economic growth.

So we ask him, if he could also please

cover the graveyard shift tomorrow,

because another fell into a bread mixer,

we found her this morning,

we’ll send her parents bread at the funeral,

but he doesn’t answerㅡ

he’s already dissolved

into the wet splash of bucket and mop

cleaning up tomato sauce and meat chunks,

we’ll give his family a lifetime supply

of our signature frozen burritos,

we’ve fed billions,

and we’ll feed billions more.

This poem is actually based on two true stories. One was about a young man, 19, who was killed at a burrito factory in southern California. The other story was a young woman, early 20s, in S. Korea, who was killed in a commercial bakery. The corporation callously sent her family a box of bread to her funeral.

[First published in Radon Journal, 2025]

[My interview about the poem with Radon Journal]

For more of my work, visit: cgacosta.substack.com