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The broken pavements, Where their footsteps kick up rubble, Don’t ask for help if you're not in trouble. The fences that divided home, Twisted barbs spirals down, This is not your town.

What lurks beneath broken rocks, The sour muck of hopeless loss, Where we rest in tired places, Rusted locks and wirey faces,

Speckled trout flap on the muddy shore, And pit bulls patrol the sidewalk with their muddy paws, What you find out here is the desolation law, Raw meat and rabid jaws,

Walk the streets naked without a home, Would you let them in? The smoke rises above barbed wire fences, And the dawn bleeds out in hope.

by Laurence Fuller, 2022