Breadcrumb #461
LIZ KELSO
Bundles of humans cling to the ground, as
the sound of city lulls them to sleep
They are not seen as part of the landscape
Hungry ghosts. Tracked, smacked & methed
Close to death, they devour their meal
& feel like greedy, wild dogs
They sit in prayer pose for that dollar
Wail & holler, “I’m just tryna eat, man!”
But none can stand for their supper
An upper, a downer, or a rock,
set their mouths aflow & their spirits
aglow with hopes of a hit. They sit,
pray, sit for hours
A catatonic stupor invades
their mind. They just need one person
to be kind. One person to help them
silence their hunger.