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“I speak this sharp-edged, oiled language
of cast iron–the language of silent workers
a language of tightened screws the crimping and memories of iron sheets
a language like callouses fierce crying unlucky
hurting hungry language back pay of the machines’ roar occupational
diseases
language of severed fingers life’s foundational language in the dark place
of unemployment
between the damp steel bars these sad languages
. . . . . . . . I speak them softly”

Zheng Xiaoqiong

Found in this article:  THE CHINESE FACTORY WORKERS WHO WRITE POEMS ON THEIR PHONES

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