American Hunger

I look away from my fridge
into the fat faces of my two children
and realize we have no food.

Later, I lay out the contents of the food box
just handed me
through the alley door of the neighborhood church:
five cans of soup and meat,
a jar of honey,
a container filled with peanut butter,
a tin of dehydrated corn, a bag
of bread and rolls.
And I'm grateful someone felt
this wealth would not be missed.

Tonight we will lounge in front of the TV with full bellies.
What a wonder hunger can loom so huge,
a creature I have never seen
but have heard crashing through the bushes.