Rooflessness and Tin Cups

A poem essay about street beggars

Image by author

Photo by sergio omassi on Pexels

The bag lady

she decants each day in cans
scans the drains for plastic treasure
trades lice and rats with lepers
raids the ruins for pins and tapers

clears the bins of tripe and crabs
plaits ducted cable to her tresses
drapes her scabs in spats of peat
scrubs the crud from her dresses

daubs the seats with lunar runes
pans for stipends with her cup
spiels and reels a descant tune
laces tea with beer and acid

her nightly sleep is lanced with pain
as spider bites redact her brain
and render essence of a past
so redolent of yours or mine

Felt Intensity, Keith Westwater (Mākaro Press, 2015)

When I was growing up in 1950s New Zealand, the idea that society would allow people to live on the streets was abhorent to my…