Paycheck to paycheck

A poem about poverty

Photo by Jp Valery on Unsplash

First of the month is the hardest,
because that’s when the rent is due,
that’s when the utilities are due,
that’s when the auto insurance is due.

Dollar menus for fast food
become best friends, one step above
Ramen, turning the human body
into a preservative.

There’s no such thing
as mid-grade gasoline.

The middle of the month is the hardest,
because that’s when
they’ll shut the phone off,
they’ll shut the lights off,
they’ll shut the water off,
they’ll leave an eviction notice
on the door for your kids to find.

Get used to screening those calls,
ignoring the ones from strange area codes,
who leave that space of dead hiss
before they’ll speak,
in case you’re an answering machine.

Get used to reading the medical dictionary
for self diagnosis,
to ignoring that strange lump of flesh
under your armpit,
to checking the…