Exurban Christmas (Day 312)

The aisles are all full 

to bursting, floor to ceiling, 

side to side, the walkways, 

like arteries, narrowed 

by excess, and yet 

just a few bags in hand.

A whole lot of something, or 

a whole lot of nothing—

it barely matters in this 

tumbledown, blue-collar town, 

where the aisles are all full 

to bursting, but there’s little 
worth buying these days.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay

Greed (Day 294)

Everything some people have 

is not enough.

Insatiable, merciless, their hunger 

prowls without respite.

Mouths agape, squawking for 

more, they devour

the world whole, spitting 

out the bones. 

Afterward, when it’s obvious

there’s nothing left, 

they suckle and gnaw 

at the emptiness, 

until it turns them 

inside-out.

(c) by Hannah Six

Photo: Per Harald Olsen

Note: I wrote today’s poem in response to the following prompt from poet Kelli Russell Agodon:
“Write a seven-line poem about one of the 7 Sins that only contains seven words in each of the lines.”