Wrapped in rags, flies
all about you, matted hair,
vein-gnarled hands,

a man’s strength locked in your jaw,
squint that narrows
to the distant enemy we all are

Whirlwind of a voice,
screams that claw back into the throat
If bodies are to be held,

yours is falling…
Walls/ Pavement/ Cardboard
Bundled clothes

Your home is where we
spit and squat, where gears shift,
motors grind

and scatter-shot fumes
blossom above


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