The Hungry Child

He learned to eat lunch slow so nobody would see
That the bag was empty, that the bread was free.
His stomach talks in class but he’s learned to cough on cue,
To drown the sound of hunger with a noise the teacher’s used to.

Dinner’s whatever the church van brings–
Canned corn, white bread, the smallest things.
He doesn’t complain. He knows the look on mama’s face
When the month runs out before the grace.

Morning brings a knock of hope, a stranger’s kindness at the door,
Bread and milk upon the step, love’s small gift that means much more.
His eyes light up with something close to trust,
And for one meal, the hunger breaks like dust.