Scavenger by Natalia Spencer

I am not a silent poet

Sun cracks sky above roof tops
& Japanese Maple is a blood orange clot

There was a time someone might have loved me
a man who stepped on sand happy

if you watch slow fall of gold leaves
this country can be really beautiful

providing you have the view
a man can look past gnarled roots

erupting through concrete
like wrinkled eels

They plague hours of air, grime
& gold humps limbless like me

And I do not ask pity from a boy who shouts
Get back to Africa

I try to speak as a Marine should
Sand fills my mouth

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