Neil Siskind’s Poetry

That Homeless Woman

A peasant, she, who shares the street
with rats, and pillows of concrete?
The feral cats from alley beats
lick the food stuck to her feet.
Day and night she hunts for eats,
old clothes disposed become her sheets.
Neighbors, mayor, so discreet,
as all ignore this sore defeat.
Aid this woman- be “elite”,
show your class by being sweet,
tender food or stop to greet
a human drenched from summer’s heat
and frozen by the winter’s sleet-
a fate no woman dreamed she’d meet.

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