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PostPosted: Fri Jun 02, 2017 12:12 am
by Saturn

When the rains fall,
Of a sudden, shock-
Tactics, even for a
Seasoned northern
European can fail.

The poor homeless
Drunk, pavement
Spread cannot his
Too short trousers
Stretch to cover
His bare thin shins
To keep a sliver
Of the skin dry
And retain a speck
Of heat resistance
For the coming
Hell of flash flood
Of hopes of sleep
For him that night.

We cover our heads,
Bodies, and vehicles:
Things of a worth,
Yet watch, or we
Rather look away as
No covering is by
To shelter a fellow
Wretched kinsman.
His husky dog howls
For his predicament?
In hunger? In despair?

What cost are an inch
Longer trousers to
Cover the compassion
And dignity needed
To wash the stones
Of shame, to sweep
This injustice from
Streets that are so
Caked with guilt
They dare not speak?