dreams in exile

By Samuel Chambers

time has no providence here
in the uncoiling poverty
blue stricken & corrugated
angels free from line
travel in cars, streamlined ventures
we are at the end of street
tapping our perception
on the stoic facades, benign gates

unreasons filling to the sky
temptations lapping against our
sandblasted sides

relief like a TV dream
honesty a crouching mouse
we rollicked
in a rooftop's tar-stained hand
counting the seasons by sting
a ham-fisted attempt
at a newborn day

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