Rats

fond memories of Poverty as I sat facing an Irish coal burning stove as an older sister prepared stale bread toasting what was left after the rats had eaten their share peeking through a hole in the wall as my sister spreaded The preserves from the Mason jar my mind began to wonder very far from the stynch of poverty a civil rights riot could be heard from the kitchen window I remember feeling content within a poverty strickened past time i folded my legs apon a wooden chair amazed at how big these rats were watching us feast on their stale bread