Downturn
Swathed in blue,
the weathered vessel
welcomes the heat
of the timeless blaze,
the
fire creeping higher
up
the sides of the pot, staining the metal
deep unto its core.
She
stirs the boiling
soup,
fingers gnarled,thin and arthritic,
mere bone, scars
on
both hands,
the
wrists too, leathered shell long since adjusted
to life’s heartless flame.
She
ladles up the meal,
feeding
the group well, as amply as the current
recession will allow,
taking
none for herself
until
every member is fed. She eats last, alone,
scraping the bottom
of
the worn out pan,
keeping
the flame alive, eating directly
from the scalding metal,
burning
her tongue,
welcoming
the heat, the tingling sensation
more than sufficient
to
keep her warm
one
more nightin the borrowed
surroundings,
more
people
than
blankets, more bodies
than beds.
~~~
First published in Ancient Paths Literary Magazine
July 02, 2014
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