CC Bloom Poet Free verse

The Flavor of Poverty

This is my headache
that I can't call a migraine
because it doesn't go away
and its not strong enough
for that convenient label.

This is knowing how 
to collect pennies,
not quarters, for 
Coin Star.  

This is going to a grocery store
not to buy food.

This is hoping you can afford
a Bento Box of wine so tonight
the headache will go away
for a couple hours.

This is asking for money
gently, and mot making it seem
like you are begging.

This is putting dignity
behind your family,
and yourself.

This is writing poetry
because words are free,
sometimes.

This is having a close relationship
with Tupperware
and leftovers.  

This is learning the art 
of meditation
because I can't afford
yoga classes or the pants
the women wear 
who go to them on Saturdays. 

This is learning to cook 
based on the cans 
in your closet between
bowed down shelves
you are too tired to straighten.

I have learned what it is
to recognize the song
of a Mourning Dove
and the peepers in the spring.

That makes me smile 
when I run in the evening
and time and no-money me
can slide down a colorless
rainbow 
towards
borrowed serenity.

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