A Dry Summer Day | Hiam Terhile

It was time of supper
A treat for the summer,
One could afford no matter
Should none be call'd a Father.

The table was set
Waiting for a dessert
Definitely not for a buffet,
A simmering, debted pocket

If things must fall apart
My device produced no alert
Seemingly for a business desert
My family is a school of coy experts

Mother, dear lovely mother
Why 've you forgotten to bother?
You have kept us all thus far together
Month by month you loved us one another.

Have we inflicted on you?
To do our day and week due?
Alas we have children so shrewd
Wayward, complying the work with feud.

Although our hands are dry
Our tongues to a supper, stiff and tied
Our ears a warning can reason
Our conscience can abide no treason.

Poet's note: This poem is a kind of subtle protest about Daly in payment of salaries of workers, written in the tone of a letter to a boss. The frustration that comes with depending on salary as the only source of income is mirrored here.