Waiting-Out Queues

By Lynn Ockersz

Hunger is reaching fever-pitch,

In stomachs shriveling sans Bread,

But the grinny Sires in TV frames,

Cajoling the queueing underclass,

Calculate that waiting these folks out,

With tongue-in-cheek syrupy talk,

Is the best game they could play,

To live and rule another day,

But this amounts to fooling oneself,

For, the dividing line is dangerously thin,

Between a rankling sense of grievance,

And the violence to break their chains,

In a people refusing to remain enslaved.