She sat at her till and stared
sufferingly at the cascade
coffee boxes and cans
and counting them carefully
speaking kindly, she said, “No.”
——————
Her pinched features pulling
at her ready smile, she stopped
the stockpiling and stealing
of food from fellow folk
who see only empty shelves.
——————–
Words fall from her weary lips
and the sadness of fear for
her own, and what’s right or
wrong has been heaped upon
her shoulders and what if
————————-
she says, ‘What if we fall ill?
Who will do our work?”
Will shops close and then
we will be shaken and shuffle
off our mortal coil starving?
——————–
And the footweary poor
hungered by others avarice and
alarm, share the fear but not the food
as anxiety clouds men and womens’
judgement and journeying.
