Hungry Christmas




Somebody gotta wring their pans

against large rimmed plastic glasses.

Make pay for heat in poverty stands.

Get the bunnies out of the jars of molasses.

Ride through the winter snow

and stop at lonely city trees to

ponder new worlds, ever aglow.


I am in the cardboard box

under the little bridge. My nipples

have long frosted off and are probably in

someone’s fridge. Everything I whisper

is a raspy fart on other’s tongue.


The fairies bring me wintergreen

but I cannot eat. It all comes up as bible pages

and anti beef propaganda cheat sheets.

Where is my dead Shakespeare and the wild

strawberry patch. What happened to the thing

that used to pass the sandwiches on down

and ding the bells of Saint Mary’s on 2nd street.


If you see me and you think boy, there goes

a fallen treat, you are right.

I lost everything to fried meats on a name

something night. I miss the yellow potato soup

from the hospital. She tasted like home

but was warm with sweet onions and toasted breadcrumbs


The monkeys fling by, the gypsies shout their way,

the troubadour sings of lost battles, and I

follow a holy rats tail of cheese and hunger


I may be the lowly cane of poverty

but at least, thank the red and green gods,

for this coal coat and golden rifle. 

If I can’t get a crow, I’ll get a wallet.  

Author: annieepoetry

I am poet. I am woman. I write with my thumbs. Read my poems. Tell me what You think. You may find the love poem you always thought someone wrote for you. Or the one you meant to write But Becareful lovers tell zingers and often break hearts Milky Way Earth U.S.A Madison WI

3 thoughts on “Hungry Christmas”

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