Windowed, white and shuttered, on a street
with other houses, mowers’ distant drone,
sharp smell of cut grass, and the feel of home.
Or city walk-up, stopping, out of breath,
bags heavy with our plans for sharing food,
There’s safety as the sirens wind away.
Squeezed in a cot or backseat of a car
side by side with others’ fitful turning,
together breathing—when? Tomorrow. Soon.
Tin or cardboard, walls keep outside out,
and, blanket pulled aside, there’s space within
for holding all that's precious we still own.
Thanks to Annette2009 for the opportunity.
TIP:
Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
Con Chapman
Deven McKay
Dave Rickert
OEsheepdog
Gerri Luce
Bellwether Vance
Salon.com
Comments