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The Hollow Coin
There is coal to ward the winter chill,
potatoes enough to see us to spring,
my child smiles and laughs;
nothing is wanted,
all is well.
Heat cloys this silk shirt,
my shelves, freezers overflow,
alone, my child groans at another digital death,
sorrow caroming wall to marbled wall,
mocking my gain of everything
while losing all.
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