Secreted Hunger Poem by James McLain

Those news papers brings too some with issue, clear relief.
Looking through the capital eye's, right there before us.
Confined inside and burgeoning even light thin fabric.
Testing the limits of compulsive normalcy, I must as well.
That long train ride underneath brings out little but resolution.
Breath spent and waiting too caught, one remembers why.
The end is always never shown and hungrily enclosed.
While that lovely hand firmly moves the small head closer.
Relief for both transparent as it drips off the chin of one.
Small fists beat against the sides forcing out more life.
Reaching for that thermal so tempted all the more none ask.