Another night of hunger, without a heel of bread . . .
the only thing to eat is beans. The drink is water.
The growling turns to a rumble
and the legs underneath are jelly.
What’s growling?
Being stalked
by the animal that lives within everybody.
Eventually robbery is the sad recourse
and shots ring out in the darkness.
It’s but a graze upon one’s back.
Whose growling . . .
showing teeth?
All that was stolen was milk, bread and a little meat . . .
something for his innocent babies to live on, eat.
Unemployed, he even sold blood
but the money went for housing.
Bellies growl
so he prowls . . .
behind the fancy restaurants in their garbage dumps.
It’s better than doing time when one can’t earn a dime.
There’re too proud to beg, get welfare,
and there’s a baby on the way.
Grumbling
comes the cops!
The wife, kids, can get help if there’s no ‘head of the house’
so the son-of-a-gun runs and another shot ‘pops’.
He is floundering on the earth . . .
saying good-bye to a sad life.
What’s growling
and howling?
It’s the nether creatures come to fetch the man back home.

Poverty is a horrid thing!