to which his work will be put, he is beset by images of the child who will be killed by the gun barrel he is fashioning, the young men who will jump from the army transport planes he helps to build. A smart grammatical turn in the final lines of "Bread and Blood" gives what could be stodgily polemical an extra edge:but I can't let go of that bomb bay door handle
in my hand
those bomb bay doors are open
and in one split second
the bombs will drop
the bread on my table
Away from the factory floor, [Fred] Voss offers us vignettes of domestic strife and affection.
from New Statesman: Working man's blues
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