clcouch123

Less Home

The homeless
That could be me one day
That in my scared
Times
I do think of this

Hard to believe
The photographs of these
Are romantic
Depictions
Sometimes inside
Shelters
Sometimes with food
Also clothed
Sometimes with pets

Or studies in textures
Impressive
Even beautiful
But there’s the real
In the city
Or the town
In the square of some collection
Of us
Otherwise
Invested

And here she is
And he
And collectively they are given things
And also physically moved
When the homed
Are tired of them
Officially
Anxietous
Over values
Of properties
And landmarks
And how
Frankly
The homeless look
Against all style
And smell
Against all savory
Eating places

Sometimes they get boxes
As they find them
Mostly
Sometimes they want
To claim their own
Out of the nothingness
They own

Sometimes we try to find them
And I wonder if
Anyone would look for me
And what if I were found
And would I want
To be

So much lack of anything
Except for fullnesses
Of fear
Of shoes and socks
And clothes
Against the weather
And the weather

Fear of the next hour
Over what
To do
When not worrying
Over food and
Drink
And where to shower

And this could be me
Though for now
I can’t appreciate
Development
Or is it
Evolution
To this state
And any consideration
Of the length of time
To live this way
Until hopeless repetition
Becomes only
The hopeless

C L Couch


I wrote of home and then it seemed unfair not to consider homelessness; maybe the homely (classic meaning) part will be posted another time.

Photo by Barb McMahon on Unsplash