65200
I hid myself in the far corner of the room
as they gathered around the cauldron
to strip those absent from their presence
of their humanities and their realities
replacing indiscriminately their identities
with home made labels and tags...
I watched
as your name was placed in the large boiling pot
to cook
until every edge turned crisp and golden brown...
they cackled
about the way you could stretch a dinner
and feed your kids for weeks at a time
on a 17th century salary...
...I could never remember them being hungry...
they howled with laughter
at the way you moved from place to place
faster than an escaped convict...
...I could never remember a time
when you were homeless...
they pounded their fists and raised crooked fingers
when someone mentioned
that you seldom stayed home long enough
to remember the names of your children....
...I could remember when you worked two jobs,
but never missed a PTA meeting...
having heard enough
I rose from to my feet
and strode briskly to the pot of boiling water
upsetting it into the laps of the hosts...
as they wailed in pain
I reached inside and removed your name...
although it was warm
I held it in front of me
admiring its golden finish
and then took it home...
