Destitution
A restless bird outside my porch, flew in panic
Back and forth, from steps to roof, from roof to plank,
All the while chirping with an anxious tone
I doubted not that somewhere a rat had found her home.
Something sly and cautious, creeping in the dark
Had crawled up to her offspring, still encased,
And broken them open, sipping it all out,
Sipping out hopes and dreams and happiness.
The poor thing must have lived a century distraught
Within a couple minutes, so adamant her chirps;
I finished sipping on my cigarette and went inside
Putting the event from my mind.
Restlessly now, it returns, like the eyes of a gator
Rising unblinking over the surface of a stagnant pool--
The thought, the mocking thought: "how trite."
Yet I would sip, and sip, and sip, feeling nothing.
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