she decants each day in cans
scans the drains for plastic treasure
trades lice and rats with lepers
raids the ruins for pins and tapers
clears the bins of tripe and crabs
plaits ducted cable to her tresses
drapes her scabs in spats of peat
scrubs the crud from her dresses
daubs the seats with lunar runes
taps public stipends from the streets
spiels and reels a descant tune
laces tea with beer and acid
her nightly sleep is lanced with pain
when spiders' bites redact her brain
and render essence of a past
so redolent of yours or mine
Poverty, impoverishment, the precariousness of continuity of access to livable incomes - these have been uppermost of mind recently. Visit Tuesday Poem for more great poetry.
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