Hunger

lives in this house. The windows
iced up---one sash hanging
by a thread
dust receiving front row
seats. Yet pangs keep
coming---almost at a screaming
level. Mom I’m hungry.
Dad’s not around
and mom on her way to work. But
we know she’ll be back
in the morning of our awakening
mid-night shift tired
from waitress duties at the Chinese
restaurant
leftover chicken balls
and Chicken Chow Mein
on the menu for hungry kids.

© Richard L. Provencher