Lunch at the Food Kitchen


Lunch at the Food Kitchen

Already the pizza is gone,
yet strands of hungry people keep fraying into the room.
I tell the next person we have bologna sandwiches,
frozen because the refrigerator was turned too low.
Can’t eat pork. She frowns.

A paper towel, please, a man asks,
swabbing his sweat-wet face with napkins
that shred like skin coming loose.

I scan the lines searching for the thin youngster
who first showed up last week,
whispering, Jamon? Jamon? which I didn’t understand.
How did he make his way this far north, and from where?
Where can he be?

Many folks ask for bottled water
as we all unravel in the heat.
I turn to Sandy, the cook. Has the shelter suggested
that donors pack water in the lunch bags?
We’ve had congregations stop giving when we ask.
Her pursed lips say, can you believe?

Today’s load of lunches came with pamphlets
tucked in with a no-mayo sandwich and chips.
Come to Jesus. Let Him Heal. Be Saved!
Charity makes its claim.


Author:
 Merryn Rutledge

Photo: Joel Muniz on Unsplash







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