The grind is enough to sink anyone, sift and disappear the weak into a dark maw of abstraction: what is a paycheck when the rhythmic thump and distraction of the work week pulls us deeper into its debt? Paperwork unfinished, desk still strewn with tossed wrappers, a conveyor belt unbuckled from a harvester. The detritus builds until you can no longer remember what you hunger for, why you are seeking, until you simply tunnel down undulating through the wreckage of each minute, until you can remind yourself that you were once the spice of the earth.
Jared Beloff is a teacher and poet who lives in Queens, NY with his wife and two daughters. You can find his work in The Westchester Review, littledeathlit, and the forthcoming issues of Contrary Magazine, Gyroscope Review and others. You can find him online at www.jaredbeloff.com. Follow him on twitter @read_instead