The Cellar

Under the locked grille, the animals are crying. You hear them while you wait and when the bus pulls up, Finally, and you get on. That was many years ago. The cellar is given over to new shopkeepers, one after the other, Who fail and are replaced. Even the selfish brother, The crazed neighbor, the criminal in his cell, face of blue Tattoos, has never allowed a living thing to starve As you have. Who knows this except for you and the laughing African with his flashing gold teeth and padlock key.