a refuse pit across the street
this clan with kids constrained by
poverty. we’re sent to school
and church and we’ve each other.
to pick fresh fruit, to sell scrap
free falling from dump trucks where we’re
first to forage and find. my
protector, my big brother,
trades up for dried fish, meat to eat.
sea to see we run to swim
with cousins, friends - our meek compound.
world riches, lusts to smother
our fun and freedom; such sweet
lives a gift from heaven’s High.
-Gary Edward Geraci