Homeless No More

Fast and free she floated
Above the encampment
Blue tarps
Torn
Tattered
Home
A soiled Spiderman blanket
Two cups
One needle
Two blows
Violently vacant
Gone.

Orion

Friendly naïve
Hunter grand
Point me in the direction
Of Orion.
Celestial asterism
Three kings
Three sisters
Sweep across the heavens
Guide me on my quest
Towards home.

Mole People

Deep under the catacombs
Of train and subway tunnels
That run the span of the city
Eighty times and back again
And seven stories deep.
Dark, damp and abandoned
Live a people
Derelict, dirty and isolated.
Self-exiled from the dangers above
Ranks in the thousands
Mole people
Never counted
Never count
Ask and they don’t exist
Least fear creeps above
Glowing eyes under trains.
What if that were you?

Homeless in America

She came with a backpack that used to be pink
And ribbons in her hair and a fresh smile to
Match her clean but stubbornly stained dress.
She was eager, friendly and foreign
She held her grandmother’s hand tightly
Until it was time to let go and be with the rest.
She was different in all the ways that mattered
And the same in all the ways that mattered
And neither of those things would ever be noticed
If they weren’t pointed out
By well meaning adults
Who don’t mean so well at all.