Her Poverty

her poverty always comes to them
on a Sunday
while they are contemplating on the
words of God

she is outside the door and
keeps on knocking until she gets tired
and just sits their on the porch
waiting

she says she has many stories to tell
about her miseries

they call on their Afghan hounds that bark so loud
and she is driven away

she tells the neighbors who save her that they are her cousins
of the first degree

they tell God that it is still time to pray

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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