Televised

Televised news turns a half-used day into a waste of desolation. If nothing wondrous preceded the catastrophic announcements, certainly nothing will follow, save the sad-eyed faces of bony children, distended bellies making mock at their starvation. Why are they always Black? Whom do they await? The lamb-chop flesh reeks and cannot be eaten. Even the green peas roll on my plate unmolested. Their innocence matched by the helpless hope in the children's faces. Why do Black children hope? Who will bring them peas and lamb chops and one more morning?