An Undergraduate Literary Journal from UW-Milwaukee

It Was for Dinner

by Jacob Kramer 

My thoughts once were wild men, 
strong and tan in the fields. 
When they hunted, it was for dinner 
and that made them proud. 
At sun-down they lay near me; 
slept with strung bows and ready limbs, 
and dreamt of tomorrow’s hunt. 

Somewhere, I don’t know where, 
I sold them into slavery: 
one at a time, 
whispered transactions, 
always in night’s cloud: 
so I wouldn’t see them shuffling 
in chains, or their proud eyes 

Sometime, I don’t know when, 
the fields were razed black 
and a factory constructed. 
My thoughts shuffled in: 
hunchbacked line-workers 
there to carry out the job. 
But at 5—it was me left with shadows, 
a dead conveyor belt 
and a finished product at its end 
that I couldn’t see through the darkness. 


Jacob Kramer aims to someday write poetry that teaches, has clean cut beauty, or acts as a dynamo for the reader. He believes the artist ought remember he/she is providing a service, not ego-bathing. He believes all poetry ought to come sincerely from mind or heart.