Pustule

The stench of that oozing essence
flared the nostrils
and sneered the mouth,
while the striker stood together
spilling their venom
at those pustules of labor
who dared to cross the picket line,
those disgusting growths
deserved no mercy or appreciation.

Meanwhile one of the pustules
swallows to keep from vomiting,
for as laid off union worker,
homeless and starving,
he had carried a sign in countless strikes,
now he endures the names
just to keep his family
that sleeps in their car
from another night without food.