Working Poor Poem by Sonny Rainshine

A tin can of flour,
the last tablespoon of oil,
an egg. He listens to the news
as the water begins to boil.

For months now he’s been
out of work and looking.
the GM plant closed last winter
and he stands here cooking.

His wife took the kids,
but he doesn’t blame her.
Her parents could feed them;
he could no longer claim her.

The man on the TV was saying:
“All this talk about the poor.
Lazy, unmotivated people—
Nothing More.”

All he had ever done,
all he ever knew to do
had revolved around hard work,
oh, and love too.

The TV man went on:
“Not a penny out of my pocket went
to charity last year.
Not a cent.”

He thought about that
and then made a decision:
to turn off the television.