Tag Archives: homeless

2022, homeless, Louisville Stories, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, river life

A Monday night on the wharf

Lord, hear our prayers –

afraid of the dark and sometimes brandishing a knife she begs the night lights for cigarettes and something cool to drink she primps as she scurries away, pulling out clumps of hair she will search for later to put up in a bun she’s having a rough night she’s crying for help but no one sees our demons but us and she chooses to speak to hers and when the homeless man on a bicycle stops to inquire all he can do is yell WHAT ARE YOU RUNNING FROM and the cops can’t take her to the hospital involuntarily and even if they did the ER would kick her in 3 or 4 hours not quite sunrise and she would have to contend with the darkness again begging night lights for salvation and a smoke and maybe a cup of water

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2022, homeless, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, waterfront

cc of interdepartmental email, re: one more dead homeless on the waterfront

not immune, no but
the marketing dept. memo articulates
fully the mayor’s position
and all the niceties aside
he wasn’t registered voter

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2022, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, summer, work

Ah, Grasshopper!

The guy pretending to fish
and his old lady ask
if I have a cigarette; the
full moon philosopher
convinced my walking stick
was made by David Carradine
air out his feet smoking spice.
I make a mental note
to check on him — from a distance —
in case he gets some fentanyl laced shit
can’t have him go all oak-chested
I don’t carry Narcan anymore
and the state fair makes cops twitchy
more interested in keeping the tourists happy
less so one Kung Fu obsessed skeleton
his skin suit all stretched his eyes
on a different television station
his ears plugged against collective commercials
he doesn’t ask for smokes but somehow
I feel like if I was smoking
he’d tell me
they were rolled by the Marlboro Man

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