Monday, 2 March 2015


i died a million deaths when 
i found in a dark alley
on dead-end street
at new beginnings close
the drying remnant of
bitter tears on a smiling lip

the first and only home
on the deserted street
shadowed by haunted houses
painted with diluted tar
from a bloodied jar. 
it was light red and heavy black

you lived alone
hope full
you taught love to recalcitrant ghosts
you stitched my rags
and made a shawl for my bare shoulders
you made me smile to warm my comrade
who shares the condemn cells

i birthed a million tears
when i found you
a smoking flax in the wind
murdered by a thumb and a trigger finger
they killed you in one casual, mindless act
because hope is the return athlete
now limping and old and unqualified