Val Warner
Tramps
Morning, the female drunk rampant sends her
Shuddering to identify coyly
Without the pills and possibilities
A have-not on its hind legs at the pane.
Life in the raw, and red in tooth and claw,
A tone too thick for penetration, sense
Not to be softened in her woman’s way.
Sunlit, she shakes a ragged sister’s fist
At the impervious panes, scratched by her rich
Self-pity, threatening the unique homes
Crazed by the dreams these wendy houses buy.
Apparition but for the grace of luck
Who beckons in the city of cards, pent
Sewer rats fleeing to the secure state.
Page(s) 24
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