Tonight's Poet Corner: Crisis Averted

Crisis Averted
by Belinda Roddie

Crisis averted - for now.
Enough time to celebrate with a flask
and flagon, and enough stained spoons
to boom out a boozehound drum solo. We're
a to z okay - for now.

Drink with me, friend, until three months
slither by on their bloated bellies,
and we're back to square one
when we've barely played hopscotch.
Leave enough chalk dust between my
cigarette fingers and my beer thumb,
and I'll draw an Ash Wednesday cross
on ye, to celebrate a purge
of sympathy.

Because twenty-four billion
Washingtons emerged from the foam
for a stein, friend. Twenty-four billion
chances at a bottle of water
or half a sandwich for a preschool kid.
A food stamp or a drop of milk. An
orange peel and a sense of worth.

Save money, they say, while
loosening their belts enough to let
the green slip from loose and
cowardly bowels. They should drink,
too, so they can forget
and bring us to the brink again.

But we're okay - for now.
We're running - for now.
We've got juice - for now.
Until we collapse.