The moon’s merciless fang hangs poised
In ebon, neon tinged,
Drawing warmth from flesh’s blood whilst
Casting hoary venom.
Slithering from the Thames a fog
That, snaking up her banks
Toward the huddled sleepers, sneaks
Through the dross and railings.
Reaching with a sinuous slide,
Around sleep, night’s snake coils;
Constricts. A gift for stupor’s dream
It seems, an extra wrap
The spirit released,
Squeezed through death’s frozen lips
With no protesting sigh; a dove
Searching for an island.
From beneath the darkness, morning
Crawls to reveal the bridge,
The stark skeleton rattling
With early, soulless trains.
Embankment Place, now emptiness,
Just one group of boxes;
The carcass to be swept away.
Starlings wheel the city.
© Clive Newnham 2012
There are a number of charities that give aid to the homeless.
http://www.crisis.org.uk/ is one such charity.
Thanks for reading,