We Live Loving The Poor Or Other Boxes On The Intake Sheet Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

we live loving categories

as if love were addressing envelopes

licking stamps, one more chance

to be recognized for our skills

we love the poor and all their ills

and doing good for them.

throwing pennies in the kettle at Christmas

but we don't remember

the colour of their eyes. the desperation

to be recognized as a person who could be known

oh no how could we ever call them colleagues

speaking as one member of the human race to another

as someone who had a mother

we dont really use their names as we would

a friend. we look straight through and surmise

we know all about them because we know

what box they're in. or what box they're in today.

there's a poor one going about

a poor one's day shifting in the chair

in a poor sort of way. can't they at least sit up straight

the kindest think.assessing needs.

wait till you drop into the file yourself.

you'll see how awful it is to be loved as a file

to be classified and butterfly pinned.

like another species entirely.

you'll see behind the strained smiles

treating you like a case inwardly complaining

about your sorry addition to their case load

when all you want is a decent conversation

that it almost feels

like negation.

sometimes, like hate.

like processed cheese

when you're in need of steak

of feeling for just one moment

like a normal person.

all this charity.

this sorrowful vulgarity.

these ten year plans

for shattered lifespans.

mary angela douglas 16 july 2020