Houses Of Desire

( by Nick Mancuso )

at cards their hands whirls like
helicopter blades
while the t.v. shines on
the corporate mess is fine
it works too well
we will starve while
they, less than a fraction
of our number
consume the greater hunk

the wheels are fine too
gleaming polished in the smog
white with cancered light
while our hearts desicate
in this wormy bed
i am not hungry
my white-flecked brother
i do not need what you need
in your house
i have no house
and my blanket is infested

your wheels are so fine
and their spinning is to me
a mouth lute

i do not hate i am
desire