This poem was also submitted to me for the Neighbor House Poetry Reading. Neighbor House is a non-profit serving the homeless/needy in Northern Orange County, NC.

Drive-by

Terri Kirby Erickson

Pacing the sidewalk, a woman in dark,
dusty clothes, hair hanging in greasy strings
beside her bloated cheeks, carries a cardboard

sign that says, help me, scribbled in red
crayon. There is no explanation like homeless

veteran or single mother out-of-work,
just help me, something most of us can relate
to as we sit in our heated cars on a crisp fall

morning, bellies full of lattes or bacon biscuits,
knowing we are inches from losing everything—

our jobs, our homes, our minds. So we look
away when we pass by, as if her face is the one
stone that could shatter our lives, like glass.

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