Of Angels and Sweatshops – by Hakim Bellamy

The cure for poverty
Is providing

I kid…
That his kitten
Of a body
Curls up
In the bonnet
Of brand new sheets

Purring
Like the bus pass we have
And the car
We do not

Warm
Like electric blankets
Instead of
Unpaid gas bills

He is a four year-old gift
Gently used
Hand me up
Oblivious to all the giftwrap
And bows
We cannot afford

The tissue paper
We’ve used to quicker-picker-upper
Spills and tears

Above
The cracks
In this sidewalk
Of a system

Thanks to
Grandma and Grandpa Claus
Because
Bikes

Cannot be put
On EBT cards
We cannot SNAP our way
Out of this Black Magic, baby

Oblivious
Over the fact
That he is serenely
Slumbering his way into a crater
Deflation
Sinking into this air mattress
That these sheets
Weren’t fitted for
The Sleep Number we could not afford

Unaware
Of the fact that he sleeps on wings
That I’ve plucked from my back
Feather by feather

That angels are manufactured in sweatshops
Daily

That every pluck
Sounds like the punch of a time clock

And son
I will give you a quill
Everyday
Until I have no more to give

I will deposit them
In your spine
Until I am no longer wealthy with wings

In hopes
That you will
One day
Right with one.

© Hakim Bellamy June 6th, 2012. Reprinted with permission from the author. Published by West End Press 2013. Available by clicking here. 

Poetry

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Hakim Bellamy is Albuquerque’s Inaugural Poet Laureate, educator and community organizer among his many ventures. Hakim’s multimedia Children’s book, Samuel’s Story is scheduled for release by Community Publishing on October 31, 2014. Image courtesy of Joy Godfrey

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