I am hungry, and there is nothing
here to satisfy more than my stomach between eight
and three but a peanut butter and jelly pressed
in the journey between the now and the maybe.
Watch the clock in classroom after classroom
I sneak a nibble here, a bite there, granola crumbles
in my bag, notes become sticky with the memory
of a desk of my own, drawers, time spent sitting
alone in an empty library, pictures
on the wall. A lock.
I follow a running child who glares behind her shoulder
meanwhile a town away my son falls asleep
in his ham sandwich, begging for someone to
wake him up. My time would be better spent
rubbing his shoulders, cutting his bread
into dinosaur shapes while telling him
the world is not his fault. My heart is riven
between the paycheck that buys the meat
and the children, empty of something else.
|Copyright © 1999 – 2019 Juked|