CITIZEN DOSSIER

THE TOWER BLOCKS RISE LIKE
BROKEN TEETH,
GNAWED DOWN BY WIND, BY TIME,
BY HANDS
THAT NEVER BUILD, ONLY BREAK.
INSIDE, THE RATS MOVE,
BORN IN DAMP ROOMS, RAISED
ON BITTER AIR,
SCURRYING THROUGH THE SAME
NARROW STREETS
WHERE THEIR FATHERS FELL.
THE GANGS MARK THEIR
CORNERS LIKE PISS STAINS,
BOYS IN BLACK WITH HANDS IN
POCKETS,
HIDING BLADES, HIDING HUNGER
DEALS ARE MADE IN THE HUSH OF
STAIRWELLS,
POWDER RASSED, NEEDLES
KISSED,
YOUNG HANDS SHAKING BUT
TAKING STILL.
A MOTHER STANDS AT HER
WINDOW,
WATCHING THE BLUE LIGHTS
FLASH,
KNOWING THEY'LL BE BACK NEXT
WEEK.
HER SON, JUST FIFTEEN,
COUNTS MONEY IN THE DARK,
A RAT LEARNING NEW TRICKS.