Friday, August 20, 2010


by Junie Moon

Faint rays of sunlight
through a tiny window
caught the spinning
prism, rainbows danced ’round
that tin can trap called home

Ha, just think, mobile home,
mobile suggesting it would move.
That old bucket hadn’t moved
in thirty years sitting
in grammies back yard

Feeling trashy was easy
when picking up
food stamps each month
was the high point of life

Even worse, the way
people look when
getting groceries,
some folks look away
others look on in disgust

One step above homeless,
a refugee, a pariah,
unwanted, used up, just one
more name on the welfare list

Finally she heard the baby crying,
so distant, strange, unreal,
all alone, disconnected from all
other life forms

Poverty and neglect
suffocating her;
strangling a tattered
will to live.

Just a little light of hope
would, perhaps, give
enough strength to keep moving

Long ago she had given up on God
or any other type of salvation,
redemption surely did not know
her address but the bill collectors did

If only she could just leave,
yes, leave this ALL behind
She went down to the river
most every day when
the baby slept

The water, sparkling, golden,
freedom soaring where the
sky crosses the water

1 comment:

  1. I would certainly hope that Junie Moon submits more work to Asphodel Madness. This is very nicely done.

    Donal Mahoney