Thursday, June 16, 2011

To A Romanian Boy

Corrugated walls
Shelter of no strength
Hurled inside
Positioned to fetal sleep
Monsters lurk all hours
In and out of me they creep
Callousness belongs to me -
Yet still I weep
I know not from where I come
The street reaps its toll
I wither amongst the many
Who never learned to cajole
I inhale this noxious fume
For it eases the pain
My utter voracity
Temporarily subsides with bane
Posion abated, hunger again beckons
-For no real meal ever came
An orphan of Romania,
To you, is my name
Nothing else do I know...
Ah, but I did once dream-
I rode my bicycle
Away from these things.


  1. So uncomfortable and perfect! I love the word cajole don't you? You've a way with words.

  2. I like the word cajole too.
    Thank you for all of your kind comments, Brandon.


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