Poverty

Poverty bleats
like a lamb
boldly stalked –
by the big bad wolf.

Beseeches feebly,
hematite marbles
nailed, unrelenting –
at I, the shepherd.

Gorgon-gazed
helplessly, I wrestle
to contain –
this troubling emotion.

Why, this shepherdry,
just I, endorse?
This blame –
acknowledge, sole me?

Licking flames
orange-red, rise
charring clamorously –
my perplexity, hurt, all.

Poverty shrieks
like a banshee
fore running Reapers –
harvesters, of shepherds.


Oct 17th - 20th, ’08.