Banking in Winter
They cried into the
Darkness of an unlit room as
Silence filled the chilly air.
The radiators no longer
Creaked and the boiler
Remained idle and mute.
The only lights that
Dutifully obliged were
Those that illuminated
The bare fridge shelves
And the microwave that
Spun in morose circles,
Warming the seventh
Bowl of Value Brand
Vegetable soup that week.
And the coats and hats and gloves
Were perma-worn, inside and
Outside the bus was a sanctuary
Of the cold and hungry on another
Trip to the bank, the warm bank,
The food bank, the we can't bank
On surviving the winter.
As energy prices soared and the
Shareholders warmed themselves,
Insulated against the callous
Grip of winter by the billions
In profit Shelled out.
And the frozen millions
Remembered a time not so long ago.
B.P. - before poverty.
At least the smiles in the food bank
Were genuine and warm,
But smiles can only nourish
You so much.
