Stray Child

You stay bold as oak
and plant petals on babies heads,
loving life as if it ever loved you.

I remain wild on the graveyard shift
stomping on slow insects and seeing truth
from every jellied corpse under my dirty heel.

A stray child
a feral on wolf street;
stray forever
because honest hearts don't care
for loose blades,
or poison kisses.

You keep well
stay decent,
never tempted by the bilious ivy
which conned me of the only life
we cloth servants are given.

Keep true gaijin
no stray child you...

©Steven Francis poems 2014