poem for April: June 78 by Karen Brodine

Thank goodness for the internet - I read this in a chapbook in the '80s and was shocked to be able to find it again.

June 78
Karen Brodine

it's like being sick all the time, I think,
coming home from work, sick in that
low-grade continuous way that makes
you forget what it's like to be well. we
have never in our lives known what it is
to be well. what if I were coming home,
I think, from doing work that I loved and
that was for us all, what if I looked at
the houses and the air and the streets,
knowing they were in accord, not set
against us, what if we knew the powers
of this country moved to provide for us
and for all people--how would that
be--how would we feel and think
and what would we create?