She’s small, like a little mouse, curled into a recess
the newspaper not much insulation—old news–
homelessness. And if it’s new to her, the whys are not—
her stepdad’s roving hands, no work, the cries within her head. . .
in a fitful sleep, she dreams of spring,
filling her small rodent body with tender berries and leaves—
all the people gone, their power plants silent, and she is at peace.
For Paul Brookes Ekphrastic Challenge. My poem is inspired by the two images above. You can see all of the art and poems on the Wombwell Rainbow site. All of these poems are first drafts, and I’ve revised this one since I sent it to Paul yesterday, so this version is different from the one on his site. This is also for NaPoWriMo.