Blue shoes and a fat lip,
She's got a black eye from
Wrestling a crackhead
For her own credit card
And a bad attitude from
Pulling out wet laundry
From a broken dryer.
.
Down four bucks so
It means beans and onions,
A scrap of potatoes if any
Were left in the basement.
The communal suffering zone
Where the six people shoved
Into her ratty apartment
Squabbled over crumbs.
.
But the real shit thing was
That her shoes were too tight.
They fucking rubbed her raw.
Pinched at her ankles until
Hot blood trailed down her
Cheap white socks and shoes,
Staining everything down to the
Stupid, broken concrete with
The unavoidable fucking truth
That she was dead. fucking. broke.
.
No change for round two on a dryer.
No cash for bus fares or taxis.
Not even the credit for a cup of tea.
It was all pennies & penny pinching.
Wet socks and black eyes.
And tonight, it was going to be
An empty stomach and cold sheets.
About the Creator
Silver Daux
Shadowed souls, cursed magic, poetry that tangles itself in your soul and yanks out the ugly darkness from within. Maybe there's something broken in me, but it's in you too.
Ah, also:
Tiktok/Insta: harbingerofsnake
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
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Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
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Comments (5)
Brilliantly written. Makes me wonder how many of my mother's relatives lived like that. We cooked over a coal stove until 1960 and ate spaghetti several times a week and hung the laundry outside. we lived in a 3-story walk-up, but our lives could have been worse. Your poem reminds me of how good we actually had it.
Devastating, this poem leaves an ache of rawness in the reader. Bravo!
Oh, love the grittiness of this.
OMG 😲 This Is Great Work!
One tragic moment after another. Harsh days ahead for the MC. Nicely done!