OVERNIGHT

I sold my soul
to a grocery store
in town
for eleven dollars
an hour

and it doesn’t look
like I’ll be going anywhere
anytime soon, ‘cause nowhere
else pays that

seven days a week
ten hours a day
they don’t care
if I smoke dope
as long as the job is done

the world sleeps
while third shift chews
at my flesh like a plague
I can’t even work sober
anymore

when will the sun rise?
how many more days in autumn?
how many more nights
chasing my youth through
these frozen food aisles
praying dawn brings
release?

By Damian Rucci

Biography:

Damian Rucci is a writer and poet from New Jersey whose work has appeared recently in Eunoia Review, Beatdom, Yellow Chair Review, and Indiana Voice Journal. He is the founder and host of Poetry in the Port, one of the Damned Poets, and the author of Tweet and Other Poems (MDP 2016), Symphony of Crows (2015), and The Literary Degenerate Blog.