The street mirrors my unease: a puddle of vomit.
A girl, homeless. Her white socks turned black,
Her shoes invisible, like her parents.
She rummages through a paper bag, seeking crumbs.
Orphan of the pavement. What's right
About a girl nibbling crumbs off soiled paper?
Or a stranger's hand-out? Crumbs
From a rich man’s banquet,
Swept away by white-gloved waiters,
Hustling for coin. What’s right
About children born to caress
The grime of the gutters? What's right
About a child’s socks, soiled by those gutters,
Embracing an invisible life?
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Comments2
This pulls at the heartstrings and is masterfully worded. Powerful and raw.
Totally agree with previous comment
Very visual
Pleasure to read
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