Cart by cart they came in. Little girls
With moms, men with white hair, snot
Dripping from their noses. They get five
Breads and three deserts Moses tells me.
He takes a bite of a yellow apple that he
sets on the wooden bench behind us.
The cement room’s windows are layered with
Frost. Moses grabs the front of the carts to pull
The next person inside. Their journey beginning,
Each eye looks over the desert table As they pass.
It is their last stop.
One man blocks the path. He says again
And again that he needs a bigger box
To carry all his food on the bus. Moses
And I empty a French bread box. He takes
It and leaves.
A woman complains about the cottage
Cheese. A volunteer with a dark beard
Who sits in a metal chair tells her that
At least it’s food. Free food.
A little Spanish girl with a pink skirt
Skips in. She grabs at the pumpkin
Cookies I am setting out. She pierces
The room with screams as her mom
Places her in the cart. No one looks
Back. They push forward.
One after the other they are lead in.
Their procession begins under a
White tarp outside and it ends
With cookies, cakes, and bread.
They smile as they put it the treats in
Their carts. Jay will want this some say.
These are Maddie’s favorite whispers
Another. Moses in his red checkered
Jacket, face outlined in deep rivets