Drawing by Judith Wolfe


      She was

      I can remember her now
      She claimed her name
      Was Rosie
      A weird
      Smacked out
      Burnt up
      Who lurked like a
      Constant shadow
      And a too sad reminder
      Of the worlds sickness
      The fag perpetually
      Hanging from her lips
      Her semen stained
      Charity shop dress
      Hugging her frail
      Bones and
      Old flesh close
      As she ranted and yelled
      At the passing suburbanite
      Cars too afraid
      Or too cheap
      to stop for her
      Her beating on the
      Door of one of my neighbours
      Bashing and blasting
      The door from its frame
      It turns out
      She hadn't paid her
      Dues and the local dealers
      Came for her with their
      Guns and their
      Knives and their
      Snarls of rage
      She woke me up
      With her banging and yelling
      I cursed her
      And never saw her
      On her familiar street corner

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