This poem is already 10 years old.  How sad, its ongoing relevance.  -LH

 

homeless | Leigh Herrick

 

leaving
or coming
to the blank garden
filled with broken things
they emptied their pockets
of all they never had
and swept the grounds
of their countenance clean
having lived so long on lies
they’d nearly forgotten
the names of streets
or the letters used
to spell their love

 

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