A FEW SIRENS

Today I am at home

writing poems.

My life goes well:

only a few sirens herald disaster

in the ghetto

down the street.

In the world, people die

of hunger.

On my block we lose

jobs, housing and breasts.

But in the world

children are lost;

whole countries of children

starved to death

before the age

of five

each year;

their mothers squatted

in the filth

around the empty cooking pot

wondering:

But I cannot pretend

to know

what they wonder.

A walled horror

instead of thought

would be my mind.

And our children

gladly starve themselves.

Thinking of the food I eat

every day

I want to vomit, like

people who throw up

at will,

understanding that whether

they digest or not

they must consume.

Can you imagine?

Rather than let the hungry

inside the restaurants

Let them eat vomit, they say.

They are applauded

for this.

They are light.

But

wasn’t there a time

when food was sacred?

When a dead child

starved naked

among the oranges

in the marketplace

spoiled

the appetite?