Compost by Matt Plunkett

The hobos in the street 
Wheel and reel
Round corners into bags, they
Grunt and barf and
Drag. They can’t be told
What is rot, their pronouncements are
Death and rival, dripping in the ambulance
Free from gospel, sticking to the orderlies,
Tongues out and daggers to the side.

The strain of the street
Not unlike the strain
Of the pillow.