StreetWrites Poet and Co-Facilitator Ruth A. Fox: An Eye for an Eye... Lately, we've all been hovering
at the gorge, gouging out
each others' eyes and hiding
to deny the fissures' spread,
so we missed the second coming.

Jesus is wandering through us
And she's not a pretty sight,
doing the barefoot shuffle,
rag blanket wrapped and hair matted into dreads.

Night's advocate now, she needs
to disrupt our daily bread,
as she sniffs out dumpsters,
finding stale loaves and
rank fishes are not enough.

Silent knives dance so close
they nip her wrists and ankles
and always moving, she never sits,
shunning the mean hearths
and sterile beds of strangers.


Her eyes prefer to stare among
alley shadows, searching
for specters who can mosey
around sharp edges with her,
rapping on doors that long ago
lost the hope behind them.

Shepherded by streetlamps, she
shall want and will consent
to join in your communion
as your home too slips off
the pantry shelf, shattered
during eternal earthquake.

But she won't accept death
as the solution this time.



Ruth A. Fox

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