‘5:27 p.m.’
Please enjoy this poem by Celia.
He sits in the metro
Pizza box and fries
Stacked up on his lap
Ignoring the eyes
Of the noses of those
Trying not to glare
While weary mouths water
Wanting a share
Post work, post workout
Faces appear sunken
Host shadows all sallow
Intestines shrunken
Tiny tummies tucked
Not unlike his own
Hunger stored neatly
Until they get home
As their stomachs growl
The glowering grows worse
He sits there pondering
Who will grab him first
This article originally appeared in The Sidewalk Issue, published April 5, 2022.
