we eat worry
with yesterday’s leftovers,
anxiousness swallowed down
with a bit of bread
that we bought with loose change
found between seat cushions
years of empty pockets
have left us accustomed
to its stale taste
it will be another long day today
the poems will have to wait
there is rarely time for writing anymore
if we aren’t working
our time is stolen by daily chores
and doctor appointments
on the rarer days,
when the quiet greets us,
our minds are still consumed
with this sense of foreboding
we can’t seem to escape
it’s rather suffocating,
always falling short of thriving
most days, we’re barely surviving
our wallets are paper thin
and the coffers are empty
our hearts are full though,
and i suppose
that makes us richer than most
– ashley jane