Monday, February 20, 2012

Paris II

Heroin dragged her around the city
because she had surrendered.
Rags wore her because
they had been surrendered by others.
Braids pulled her hair together,
her arms and a little red blanket
surrounded a kitten.
The kitten was like her,
afraid of being alone,
afraid of knowing it would be.
She mumbled for offerings,
and I could understand her language.
It was her complaint to Morpheus,
that he would never stay,
that his embraces grew shorter,
and it was a question for all of us on the subway,
Do you not know of hunger?

But I would not answer.
I would not exchange my place for hers.
I would not go close to being abandoned,
hanging on so well, as I do, to these rags, these coins,
these little soldiers.

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