we were Quality Control
yet misnamed
guys of mixed quality
often out of control
not true factory hands like the guys
who did the real work at the reel end
or the better guys at the head end
we never had to repair paper breaks
we couldn’t even all by ourselves
cost the company a ton o’ money
well not true
we could say ok too fast
and out would go a truckload of crap
then somebody Big would not be happy
we were a mixed bag
Ronnie our boss who didn’t mind mischief
that skinny Salvation Army guy singing
“Angels We Have Heard on High” all summer
sad old Herb not an angel with his stash of porn
me the FNG some high school kid later some college kid
with Tommy Two Square inked on my lab coat
there were some Navy guys too
one after another by word of mouth
Walter then Terry then another
submarine guys out of Sasebo no jungles
a different kind of cat
sharp edgy
too bored to sit still
when nothing nuclear was at stake
so they instigated
I have that bad gene my uncle had
and my son has too
so I went along with their crazy stuff
like hanging Japanese banners outside the mill
where the whole town could see
and jumping on the PA to tell
the night shift guys
at the reel end and the head end
You Can’t Get Tomorrow’s Jobs with Yesterday’s Skills
which was cruel because
all they had was yesterday’s skills
while I was off to IBM then NASA and all the rest
but all they had was a couple beers on Friday and
dreams of fast cars
like Tommy’s white XKE
and Craig’s sweet ‘Vette
Craig another watery ‘Nam misfit
ex-Coastie serious more than most
but a vet with a ‘Vette
even dated Hilary who was not all that
but still the hottest in the office
I was too young to put it in words
but I knew they wouldn’t last
she just wanted a guy to fill in the blank
he just wanted something faster than all of this
every shift we had visitors
deaf lifers from the ball mills
shuffling up with samples of our secret goop
I’d scope it while they stood there
living dead men old deaf and missing fingers
the picture is still in my grey head
I’d ok the particles they’d ground down
even as the titanium ground them down worse
even my kid brain saw a job could
kill a man yet leave him standing
staring nine-fingered at the floor

Dr. Thomas Reed Willemain is a former academic, software entrepreneur and intelligence officer. His poetry has appeared in Sheila-Na-Gig, Two Thirds North, Closed Eye Open, Dillydoun Review Poetry and elsewhere. He holds degrees from Princeton University and Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

Sara Hubbs is an artist based in Tucson, AZ that primarily works in sculpture, drawing, and blown glass. She completed a BFA in Painting at Arizona State University and an MFA in Visual Art at The George Washington University where she received the Morris Louis Fellowship. Hubbs has attended residencies at the Vermont Studio Center and at The Cooper Union. Her work has been included in group shows at The Tucson Museum of Art, the Ex-Teresa Arte Cultural in Mexico City, Collarworks in Troy, NY, and Carnation Contemporary in Portland, OR. In 2019, Hubbs received an R&D Grant from The Arizona Commission on the Arts. In 2023, Everybody, from Tucson, AZ presented a solo booth of her work at NADA New York. Her work was included in New Glass Review 42 from the Corning Museum of Glass.