NaPoWriMo, Day Nineteen, Poem Nineteen

Finally. Based on my girlfriend misnaming the name of one of my poetry chapbooks. starts with nonsense, goes from there.

Hired Help

Hundred dollars
per hand shoot
high job.

Make new
job title,
own market.

Hold signs
WILL BIRTH
FOR DEATH.

Five fingers
from dollars
to donuts.

Grow food
inside this
hollow stomach.

Empty vessel
only thing
not foreclosed.