Some are going to die tonight.

Hypothermia 

When old winter’s bitter cold
Sinks into wire and soul
Through window and wall

Where is the haven
From welting wind, snow
And ice, where
Do the homeless go?

Never was a time
More apropos
For the bonfires
of Girolamo
to cleanse us of greed
and warm the poor!

Churches open a door,
Yes, some will sleep alright:
Some are going to die tonight.

Rayn Roberts 2016

 

 

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