Photo by Dorothea Lange ( Posted for Poetry Jam)
The cupboard was bare
as the ragged edge of her sleeve
some potatoes lay on the hill
tumbled in dry earth.
She knew her two children
were ready for food;
she could feel and hear rumbles of
empty hunger against her shoulders.
Wyatt had gone hunting
maybe squirrel or rabbit
would soon grace the pot.
The cupboard was bare
as the ragged edge of her sleeve
some potatoes lay on the hill
tumbled in dry earth.
She knew her two children
were ready for food;
she could feel and hear rumbles of
empty hunger against her shoulders.
Wyatt had gone hunting
maybe squirrel or rabbit
would soon grace the pot.
