Homeless,

Homeless,

today

the man wakes from a (one eye open) sleep

with the sore back on a hard bench

stretch and groan, early, to steer clear

of the passers-by sneer and eye-roll

with quick turn of the head,

~

and they move along …

~

at home

way back when

the boy woke from a (one eye open) sleep

with the hard and fast pounding hand of panic

pressing his heart, and iced-up breath in his chest,

as he waited for grave footsteps

and a stale beer breath fog,

~

and he couldn’t move,

~

and he can’t move on.

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Note: this poem is not based on any one individual.

If you live in Australia and need someone to talk to – you can contact Lifeline (Crisis support and suicide prevention).

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