Saviours
There was a scarf made for a tree
And underneath a body sat
Entwined with plastic sheets
Arms outstretched
For passing coins
That wouldn’t come.
And not from me, in my elitist
majesty
ripe with smug hypocrisy
I walk past recycling bins and public art, gifted benches enshrined with plaques
That made me feel so much better
For ignoring that body
Under the tree
