True Crime

Hunger seeps between,
the spine, head, heart, devours the dream.

The poor man’s sickness,
you heaving hunger victim

stuck slick in city pitch,
yearning a bate and switch.

They leer, stalk, just at bay…
skritch-scratch to trap you in a cage.

Wary of your claws dipped
in ethnic skin.

 

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Published by

HC

I hail from the sunny southwest. I wait, unkempt and unbidden.

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