Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature

Carolyn Gregory: Leper

She wears her hat

on her sleeve,

bleeding badge of all

she has suffered,

arrow piercing the aorta

when she lives out here.

The alley becomes her nest

in a broken sleeping bag

with two or three blankets on top,

wind chill nine degrees.

Her head carries

the stigmata of the forgotten,

bruise and smudge on her face

without a name.


Copyright 2018 Carolyn Gregory

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