Parting Glass (The troubled and homeless)
Joan’s oldest child
assaulted with
a meat cleaver,
talk about knifes…
Mary Beth, her son
hung himself, and
Joes plastered day
and night…
Ann is kicked from
time to time,
dragged by her roots
swept across the floor…
Agnes picks up
all the broken glass –
while Mama shakes
between an open door...
Randy, aborts a child
who sucks its thumb,
moved outside,
starving inside a
cardboard
box – next to her
shopping cart,
a child’s crib…
yesterdays love
swept down open
drains
Tomorrow, in the oven...
a love child
Mama’s heartbreak,
Papa’s dishrag.
The hand that cut a
cord… slowly kills a
child. A life, a mere
parting glass of dreams…
Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved @2011
Poetry and Prose by Nancy Duci Denofio with bloger http://nancyducidenofio.blogspot.com
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label homeless. Show all posts
Monday, March 7, 2011
Friday, September 17, 2010
DEPOSIT TRASH
DEPOSIT TRASH
That's me
hanging around the "Motel"
near the spot where a sign
reads, "Deposit Trash,"
where chipmunks congregate
in the city
climb a single tree
in our concrete jungle -
That's me
leaning against red brick
seeing less than you
knowing all there is
to know - about
"Depositing Trash,"
watching people strut
by in suits
while I still wear
open toe shoes in
late fall -
forgot to paint my
toe nails and clip
the longest on the
big toe . . .
but no one knows
That's me
a reflection on a
dirty window showing
my age - showing me,
a faceless woman -
a shadow in black
leaning against
red brick near that
sign "Deposit Trash,"
where few people
notice I walk a
little crooked -
I seldom smile -
I seldom laugh -
I seldom deposit
my trash
It is me in the
reflection - I lift
my arm to cross
my chest - as if to
feel my own heart
race - then move
rub my back against
red brick to stop
the itch
That's me
waiting for a stranger
in a yellow cab - to
slow up in front of the
motel window - a
reflection in black - to
pick up - then deposit
trash.
Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved
That's me
hanging around the "Motel"
near the spot where a sign
reads, "Deposit Trash,"
where chipmunks congregate
in the city
climb a single tree
in our concrete jungle -
That's me
leaning against red brick
seeing less than you
knowing all there is
to know - about
"Depositing Trash,"
watching people strut
by in suits
while I still wear
open toe shoes in
late fall -
forgot to paint my
toe nails and clip
the longest on the
big toe . . .
but no one knows
That's me
a reflection on a
dirty window showing
my age - showing me,
a faceless woman -
a shadow in black
leaning against
red brick near that
sign "Deposit Trash,"
where few people
notice I walk a
little crooked -
I seldom smile -
I seldom laugh -
I seldom deposit
my trash
It is me in the
reflection - I lift
my arm to cross
my chest - as if to
feel my own heart
race - then move
rub my back against
red brick to stop
the itch
That's me
waiting for a stranger
in a yellow cab - to
slow up in front of the
motel window - a
reflection in black - to
pick up - then deposit
trash.
Nancy Duci Denofio
all rights reserved
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