Plight

A prose-poetry look at the constant reminder hopelessness so many face who have but their plight for comfort as winter storms continue. Meanwhile, 85 people hold tightly to more wealth than half the

Plight
                 by Odin Roark

Pathos coated my hands
Like shoe polish dye
Like blotter’s ink
Reminding once more
Dumpster diving wasn’t me

I walked the frozen sidewalks
Picked up a starving dog along the way
He used me
I used him
Warm is good

Ho and Bo
I named us
Making another plea
We took to a street corner curb
Cardboard sign
“Anything helps �" Ho and Bo”

Cars forever passed
Too busy squinting
Blizzard-blind windshields
Further enhancing excuses
For frigid disregard
              
  ***
“And… well… that’s it
Thanks for this”

The sidewalk stranger nodded
Gestured the cardboard box corner
Where Ho and Bo scrunched themselves
Above the sidewalk grating

Warm subway air vented upward
A homeless kind of salvation
A piece of winter heaven for many


As snow and wind buffeted the flimsy box
The stranger pulled his shag rug
A bit tighter around his legs
Offering some dumpster rewards
Of a lucky day

Ho nodded his head
Bo raised his eyes weakly
The stranger nodded a smile
“Take it”

Bo ate quickly
Ho nibbled to fill the time
The weathered box flap
Rising and falling with the wind
Holding his attention

The stranger lodged his foot against the flap
Handed the other end of his tattered blanket to Bo
“You sure?  Could get colder tonight”
The stranger gripped his rug
Dug his heel in securely and nodded
 “Probably right”

So went the night
Where one had become two
Had become three as one

Few noticed