Early in Piece Work, "Charlie, First Shift Foreman" explains how he is following his father's lead — a farmer who always had "good hands" with his cows:
I do my daddy's work here in the plant,
for it's me makes sure this cloth
has a good hand...
Put that on your skin
every morning in a t-shirt and you'll know
why what I do means something in this world...
And in "Tanisha Talks About Knitting," she knows the risks of the deafening machines, but she is good at her job and proud:
I can't hardly leave this spot to pee —
thread or something might pop loose...
...Twelve machines is all anybody gets
no matter how good they is. I'm on ten.
...you got to get better and faster to earn
your machines...
And so Tanisha coaches Manuel, the immigrant worker with the baby daughter who has a hole in her heart. Then before anyone can believe it, the factory is closed, the work outsourced to Port Au Prince.
Reading these poems is like listening to my aunt or my grandmother tell me the way it was, giving me snippets of history. The 2007 winner of the Cleveland State University Poetry Center First Book Prize celebrates work from an insider’s view through the voices of the cutters, spinners, bar tackers, quality control and supers in a textile mill in the Carolinas.
I care what happens to Charlie and Tanisha and Manuel, to Velma in packaging and Charlene in quality control, to Carl the HR guy and Mr. S.B., the owner who knew all their names and their children's names. It's rare to read a book of poetry about work, but these are hard-earned experiences, and through Barbara Presnell, each voice rings clear and true.
