Squalor Poem by John Weber
Squalor
He leans against
the silent factory
as bustling parrots
regard his plight
with heartfelt indifference
bathed in the glow
of touchscreen devices
and the notion of
absolution through
repetition.
Heels clack firm
paced on schedules
trampling the dust
into pavement cracked
and pocked like
the lamentable stares
of cardboard refugees
sprawled limp beside
grates pumping
exhaust.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/20/2024 1:26:58 AM # 1.0.0.1119
