Call Us, by Sally Van Doren

Let’s use our nicknames
When we apply for this next job
Even though it’s past our bedtime
And our current paycheck

Can’t shut up the muse
Who mewls at the dinner table
Begging for a crust of bread
To sate the nightly terrors.

For they come, don’t they,
Leaving empty spaces numbers
Are supposed to fill. Buddy
And Chip loaded their coffers

Before the hard freeze.
The ice burns our tongues
As we swallow prosperity
One parched drop at a time.