The smell of fresh rolls, hot chestnuts, rosemary,
and sausages makes her belly feel bare as winter.
At the marketplace, Edmonia pretends
to study the color of apples, the shapes of oranges,
while calculating what she can afford. She knows
how many coins are in her purse and doesn’t know
when she may fill it again. Empty is empty.
Was it a mistake to move from a place where breakfasts
and dinners were gifts? She returns home with one orange
she peels at the old table. She sips water, pushes back bills,
finds fresh paper and ink. On the worm-eaten wood,
she pens another plea. Borrowing makes her teeth ache,
but she needs money for marble to sculpt and sell.
Does Mrs. Child know of a park
or meetinghouse in need of another hero?