Sarah Wilson's blouses
and unmentionables
hang one-hundred feet
above the vacant stomachs of strays
who sniff suspicious puddles
of dumpster runoff
and rainwater

little broken suns
drip down brick mountains
beneath condemned fire escapes

I dream about a world
A world where there is no death
World where there is abundant of honey
World where love never hurts
World where lion and elephants are domestic animals
A world full of happiness
A world where the poor are valued
A world without hate
World full of flashes of colours and distance of scenes
A world moving faster than I can glean
A fantasy world is world of no means