Equatorial City | Adrienne Stevenson

in the dense, hot city, they huddle in corners
near-perpendicular rays find them
they scuttle, like spiders, scrawny limbs
on bloated bodies, seeking shade

it evades them as all comforts do 
they pray knowing prayer is futile
but they have nothing else in this world
where plenty abounds, food, clothing

a mockery of their rags, empty bellies
time approaches for choice of gang
when grandmothers can no longer cope
always knowing someone will come

drag them away to darker corners
where, for the right money, anything
might happen, unspeakable things
no child should ever know