A Poem a Day (147): Man under a bridge

Man under a bridge

The flood comes beneath noise,

Creeping beneath anger.

Low whistle.

Its rage to nothingness,

The great silencing.

This stasis of zero.

“I have nothing

To eat.”

A hunger so unendurable

It screams

What it cannot be.

You find him lacking

In his nakedness.

Disarmed, undignified.

“I have nothing to clothe

Myself.”

The rattle of a train roar

Overhead fuels

His wretchedness.

This pain spirals,

Growing as a leaf

Disintegrating.

“I have nothing.”

Skin pale-drenched,

Eyes still, lit globes

Unseeing.

How do you breathe

In this stagnant sea?

The gut-kick.

“I have.”

Your disgust is real.

We stagger midst the flood,

This sapping weight of

Responsibility.

Have we lost?

“I.”

Copyright Vickie Johnstone, May 17, 2020