I am poor. Poorer than the Mountains. Poorer than Allah.
Dirt Poor like Jesus Christ. Poorer than a waitress serving
Coffee at a five-and-dime.
Poor. Poorer than the stars. Or that black night sky that
takes everything and gives nothing back. Poor. Poorer
than a refugee. Is that even possible? Maybe if you don’t
appreciate. Poorer than yesterday. Poor without knowledge.
Poorer with knowledge. Poor.
Until the word itself is strained of its own existence.
Poor no more.