A Piece of Bread.

My mother starts moaning, with another one due. She won't live to see, as she struggles to wheeze. I never knew famine would produce skies so blue. But no need for toilets, I forget how to squeeze. Searing sun inflates skulls into baroque balloons. One whining dog, dying , from a surfeit of fleas. I squint as my sister beats a roach with a spoon. She's holding out hope, with a morsel to tease. My eyes can still water from the feces and trash, tossed up by vultures to release fresh disease. I dig up what moist dirt I can pound into mash. An old man collapses, not a single one grieves. What passes for corpses- baking black as they pop. Now the flies feel the heat and retreat to the trees. My brother keeps wailing and I wish he would stop. My breathing grows shallow in the oven fed breeze. If it helps each of you, I am down on my knees. I beg you. Hand me one piece of bread. Would you, please?