For Martin Railey Poem by Raj Dronamraju

I remember commenting on how skinny you'd become
And you were taking upwards of four cigarette breaks a day
And you have five children and that was always a tragedy in the making
A mine which blows up when stepped on, snuffing out seven lives

And the pain in your throat and the constant coughing you chose to ignore
No vindication in the statistics
Only an empty waiting room in a doctor's office
On employee bowling nights, you always had the highest scores

I remember how you sold insurance on the side to supplement your income
Sold investment plans, whatever you could do for income
How you worked for five children and a wife who was a homemaker and couldn't drive
How you neglected personal health and worked yourself into the grave