Cold spring morning and the grade-school
kitchen ladies pack quick-fix meals for poor kids
because the rona’s on a killing spree while they bitch
about the parents because most are probably tweekers,
dopers, drunks, or immigrants ripping off America
because we give too much away while a holy DJ shills
Jesus love for dollars, hawking heaven for donations
so Christ the Risen Lord can feed the poor and hungry,
because their pay is lousy and arthritis spikes
their bones and the grandkids’ dad’s not married
to the grandkids’ mom, so they sneak out quick-fix meals
and no one says a thing because that would be so wrong,
because they have to feed the kids now that daddy’s gone to jail
and who knows where the mom is? maybe she’s detoxing,
but the Jesus shilling DJ is off the air at last and Dolly’s singing
Coat Of Many Colors and now Aretha raises rafters
with You’ll Never Walk Alone, and someone mutters amen
and another sing it sister and then as if on cue
someone drops a stack of trays and someone laughs
and then a couple more because the righteous racket
is bouncing off the floor, clattering like cymbals
that set the kitchen ringing and making joyful noise.