Toe Tags And Case Files
Fluorescent hum in the hallway
coffee cold on the file room shelf
Another call in the morning telling me someone finally lost to themself
I keep my badge on a lanyard like a bandage over a split
Walk into another living room where the light’s burned out of it.
Kitchen table cluttered with letters no one can afford to read
Past due, final warning, threats dressed up as need
I sit on a broken chair
ask the same questions one more time
While a kid stares holes through the drywall like it’s some kind of crime.
Hook
I’ve seen more body bags than pay raises in this line of work
More toe tags than handshakes from the suits who let this lurk
They tell me I’m a hero in some speech they never mean
While I scrub another loss off my hands in a bathroom that won’t get clean.
We had a boy last winter who called three times in one night
Hotline log full of red flags
budget said “we’ll be all right
” Next week I watched his mother fold into the hospital floor
Paperwork needed signatures before anyone closed that door.
Town hall says “we value you
” mouths full of polished air
Same mouths sign the cuts that gut every safety net we share
Posters on the subway show my job with soft warm light
They never show the body bag at four in the morning on a Tuesday night.
Hook
I’ve seen more body bags than pay raises in this line of work
More zipped-up endings than mercy from the network
They send us broken lives and pennies
call the balance “lean
” While we carry one more stretcher through a world that stays obscene.
I’ve got vicarious dread that knows my bedtime by heart
Faces on the pillow when the darkness starts
Every voicemail I couldn’t return
every door I couldn’t reach
Piles up like unmarked graves under the floorboards of my speech.
There’s a kid on my caseload who draws houses without doors
Says it keeps the monsters out
keeps his father off the floors, I bring crayons
cheap snacks, talk circles round his fear
Then drive away wondering which headline will tell his story next year.
My paycheck barely covers rent in a building that wheezes at night
Roaches in the stairwell
neighbors losing their own fights
I read one more policy memo about “doing more with less
” As if I wasn’t already stitching myself into everyone else’s mess.