Fridge Vacancy
A position to fill
But no one seems interested
A white clean office
Air-conditioned and well lit
In coming trays are empty
In anticipation of goodness.
The month has finally ended
But the vacancy remains
I peep through the doors
To embrace that vacant expression
Of emptiness and want
Its penury’s
storefront
My fridge my mirror
My reflection, my life
In a world of a trillion fruits
Not one has occupied mine
No eggs no bread
No milk or butter to spread
White supremacy? White everywhere
A rainbow coloured fridge
WTo douse this hunger monotomy
It is not a fridge but a morgue
The vacant enclave is
Death kept fresh, kept cold
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