Food Pantry By Monique Harris

The Rising Phoenix Review

April 7

Food Pantry

Lately folks have been opening doors for me
like when I go to the food pantry in loose white capris
in rooms packed with strangers riding their hunger

and I say softly it's just me and women shout
you still have to eat—I talk to the couple pacing
who say the free cookies get them in trouble

the bellbottoms lady holding recycled green bags
asking how's the protein here?
The low fade brotha rushing downstairs

flirting with jeweled warped potatoes
the child curled around her sister's ankle like a kitten
who can survive any kingdom

pointing at shelves of grains, sugar, canned meat
stickered freezers, posters of life-long milk
diapers, whole wheat bread, toiletries

stomping old men melting into corners
teenagers wanting processed jerky
sparkling water, favorites finally within reach

dreams of feasts, flavors, textures,
tastes that tame every pang in their stomachs
no hours stretching, no days too long

I have all this space to walk through—
backrooms overflowing with elders in gold
learning names past pronunciations

tables overflowing with cups of hot tea
lemon wafers, slices of heritage sweetness
ribbons sprinkled on pamphlet perimeters

gray heads dipped below cabinets before rising
to say there's plenty for all.
I think that's my favorite word: All

All these doors opening at once
All this community ascending
And someone unravelling at the sight
of a long, forgotten delicacy—

God Bless You. God Bless You. God Bless.

By Monique Harris

Biography:

Monique Harris has been a healer, a teacher, a traveler, a dancer, and a graduate MFA student of Indiana University. She has work published and/or forthcoming in Yellow Arrow Journal, Talon Review, Moira Literary Review, Press Pause Press, Packingtown Review, Wards, Torch Literary Magazine, Collateral, aaduna, and more. She currently calls Raleigh, NC home and can be found most days hiking, reading, and writing.