*****
I see that you’re homeless
Would you like a peach?
I hope it’s ripe!
(I went to the trunk of our car
Searched through our market box
Pulled out the smallest, hardest,
Most misshapen of the lot
The one which never would have ripened
No matter how long it sat
In my sunny, peaceful kitchen window)
Here, I’ll put it in a far corner
Of an empty to-go box
From the warm meal we brought back
To the car we ostentatiously lockd
And then checked
Twice
Every single door,
When we saw you sitting near
Now I’ll extend it with
Obvious strain and awkwardness
As far as — further than —
I can reach
Toward such a
Diseased
Debased
Degraded
Creature as yourself
In the end
I have taken from you
Infinitely more than I have given
That was my intent
(And, you see, this way,
My husband
Waiting behind the wheel
And his closed window
Sees me as
Charitable)
*****
The poet/editor of this website is physically disabled, and lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. Contributions may be made at:https://www.gofundme.com/are-you-a-patron-of-the-arts
