Issue
 #22 

July
2012


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a poem by Jonathan Butcher

Value

Slow delivery, on this rain-
drenched walk, out of windows
I see faces peek that stare blankly
at their fractured reflections in
puddles

And feet sliced on broken milk
bottles caked in mud, that follow the
patter of rats through newly buffed
subways.

No conclusions are drawn here, and
never will be, no easy answers handed
out like free samples of whatever rot they
offer for the price of a smile.

Down the drains the rain pours, like
a sewer of fool's gold, in which the
children here panhandle, hoping to
find some kind of value, in this place
that has nothing to sell.

© by Jonathan Butcher
 
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #22 ~ July 2012