They made me leave
The church too early
Again this morning.
I left at seven,
Already hungry, wanting to stay a while and pray.
God knows I needed to stay there and pray.
“Come back at noon for sandwiches,” the man said. Baloney.
“Baloney and cheese,” he said.
They give each of the men
Two sandwiches at midday.
So many men shuffling,
Each one reaching up in helplessness and shame
To a tiny open window, each for his two baloney sandwiches
With no mayonnaise and no lettuce,
Afterward trying to study what’s left of his shoes.
I’ll be too hungtry at noon for two slices of bread – to hungry
For baloney with no mayonnaise.
Oh my god it’s starting again.
The fear
That makes my hands and feet hurt every time.
My mind a set of wheels that’s left the track, now flying,
Going a hundred and forty miles an hour, now faster
Than that.
Threatening my mind with its own insanity – but I can only try to drive the thing
Coming at me with rage and fury I can’t control.
My belly now an angry, a ravenous, really unpleasantly
Ugly cat
Hissing at me furiously, angrier now than before,
telling me all day and all night that I need to eat
Need to eat.
My corduroy dress
Is dirty now,
Shapeless and worn,
It had a hem once – the dress and I were proud. We
Were neat and pretty
And I loved wearing it.
But it’s a torn blanket now – just something I wear to
Cover me.
Adhesive tape holds my glasses not quite together,
My short hair shaggy and ugly and long,
My loafers worn sideways to oblivion,
The children I see are afraid of me.
How can anyone change such a thing as that
And make it no longer so?
–Diana Strelow
