Still Poor

Bill Garten

I thank daily the lady, who rented this apartment
before me here in Clarksburg, West Virginia.

How she left a beautiful Caribbean conch shell
behind on the toilet tank lid.

A tiny spider now lives in it, like a hermit crab.

    I can’t afford to buy towels, detergent – can’t
    truck off to the laundry mat.

    I dry my wet body with toilet paper after my shower.
    A little dab will do you.

I reflect on this spider, how it’s living big.

Then there’s me.
No television, no radio
    – staring at the plaster, as it peels

off the walls, like last summer’s sunburnt skin.