The Gutter Banana - June 29, 2025

first one up, mom wakes and

dresses the kids, helps pack

the bookbags, hustles them to

the kitchen to eat their cereal,

pleads they hurry to catch the bus

as dad rushes to cinch his

belt, grab his coat and gulp

the last drop; he kisses two

foreheads and a pair of lips

and hustles out the door

only then can she relax with a

fresh cup, dial a friend, nibble a

scone and review her trying life

a mother in Rafa, stuffs paper

under sticks, lights a fire, awakens

father, dresses the two little ones

herds them all outside to share

tea and a gutter-found banana

then each grab a big bowl or bucket,

mom with one hollow-eyed kid, dad

with the other as they shuffle through

the tent city, listening through the

thin fabric of a hundred homes

for whispered rumors of food

against the louder groan of suffering