September Poem 18

Looking back to make sure

He doesn’t give a hot meal,

She meets his gaze.

The camera’s gaze.

The masculine gaze,

Sorely lacking

When he sits to respond.


The offended woman approaches.

That is a beggar.

Just give some money,

Anything, everybody, all this,

And look him in the eyes.

Charity is there.

No need to pray.

Rise since a spare is one dollar.

You can give right.


The young man,

Middle-aged, frightened,

Walks quickly to work.

Straight away

Not being followed


Who helps, he calls

When one passes from stage right.

She the greedy little heathen

Could needs the rapture.

God hates the giver.


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