Descending Tiers of Tightening Knots

~ for the Bag Lady who roams the Dockside of the City ~

… Today will not be a Wasted Day…
I’ve just stitched another few hours
into the Distance between us.
I used to laugh at ‘Red Flags’…
now, I no longer get to see them,
I sense them before they appear
… and am off away on me toes.
Yesterday, I held the shaking hand
of a homeless lady named Jane…
who tried explaining to me
the Grief of losing 2 infant children
in a Christmas house fire
… and she turned to drink…
… and crawled out of bed each day
Suicidal… to finally catch
her husband fucking her own sister
in the garden shed 8 months later
… they laughed in her horrified face.
“Why does God torture us so?”
she asked, trembling and desperate.
“I dunno.” I replied, pulling away.
“Your ‘Pain’ is the most Perfect
thing that I’ve ever come across…
it’s breaking my black heart to bits
and I’m not even the one inhabiting it.”

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.