The Pantry

the Pantry
I shut the doors  quickly.

Both of them, and latched them securely.
It is a conscientious habit of the rich
To be aware of the contents of the pantry
And watch how the grocery bags hold even less bulk.

I shut the doors quickly

And ask that my apron be not searched
It is a tedious habit of the poor
To ask that we are left un-fettered
And let us find our needings

Is it a truth that our opposites

Guard what is in our pantry…
Would that mean that our sacred savings
Could be better off with two keys… 
Both protecting the storehouses
How can we do so until?
We are all sure what is behind the doors of the pantry
Our plenty, our lack
How tiresome is the measure of either