Neither my mugger
nor my rapist
nor the gypsy in Florence who cleverly stole my wallet
while I admired her daughter’s baby
in front of Santa Maria Novella
a good professional job
they owed me nothing
but the smooth men who promised me and lied
the politicians who promised me and lied
should fry in hell and be smeared on toast
said the old woman

You admire me do you
coming and going the way you do
using your extra stem
tra la la the privileged lot of you
casting your gaze over the lot of us
approvingly but who are you to judge
merely because of my immobility
you imagine yourself so superior
crouch down
you are in my light
said the dark red tulip

They sold my brother said the dog
the new owners trained him
no meadow no tossed balls no sandy beach
hard palm short leash they made his poor wet nose
a killer’s tool
taught him to track to threaten to snarl
whether in a train station or a gray cement prison
they yell get him
it excites them
they like
to watch my brother drool and attack