Full Time
A Poem about Ableism and Capitalism
Full Time
I wonder if they called
The supermarket where I worked
Back in college, when
The thought of food
Sent me to the restroom
And some days my arms
Would suddenly give out
While I carried milk
Across the store floor.
I wonder if they heard
About the migraines
With quarter-sized blind spots.
I pray that just saw
The impressive credentials,
The fact that I managed
To be a manager
From high school
Through college.
My paranoia tells me
They sense I hovered
On the page where I refused
To disclose my disability.
Did they know they were
Seated before someone
Who can slip off to puke
And return unaffected?
I’ve learned how to collapse
In that moment before fainting,
When your heart is racing
And the world zooms out
And the heat is turned up
And your hands are clammy
And you know to never reach out,
Expecting someone to catch you;
No, no instead you reach
Down and back —
I figured out quickly
How not to get a concussion
Every time my body and brain
Disconnect and I wake up
With lights spinning back
Into their bulbs above me.
They say it’s frustrating
To employ someone who suddenly
Faints and can’t come in
The next day,
Despite the fact I can still work
More effectively than anyone
When my pain is creeping
Above a level six.
Shouldn’t it be considered
An asset to admit disability
On your resume?
