This Grim Place Poem by Ernestine Northover

The alleyway was starved of sun,
no golden beams through it, did run.
In this dank murk sat cats on bins,
and drunkards sleeping off their sins.

Winds whistled down it, tossing trash,
large rats would make a sudden dash.
Famished felines would jump and pounce,
sending galvanized lids to bounce,
onto the ground. Silence broken,
swearing now from tenants woken.
then all’s quiet, except the snoring,
and rodents with strong jaws, gnawing.

Living here is sheer survival.
Poverty’s made its arrival.
But somehow, in all this squalor,
where there’s not one cent or dollar,
here people and creatures exist,
taking issue with claw and fist.
Poor renters face regret and debt,
eviction’s a frightening threat.

The alleyway has its own world,
Where garbage and abuse gets hurled.
Yet in this grim place, all are friends,
On one another, each depends.


© Ernestine Northover