Illegal deposit

Poem by Rosemary Mathew

What’s the law on loitering?
(with or without intent?)
Does he commit offence, who
summer, autumn, winter, spring,
swings his soiled sleeping bag
into a shop doorway and curls
inside it in a drug-drenched sleep?

Or sits silent, dog at his side,
propped by a cardboard sign –
Please give. I need a shelter.
God bless you –

Bitter in January,
parched in July.

Is it nothing to you,
all you who pass by?
Blinking your eye.
Avoiding from fear,
embarrassment,
pity, shame… Trapped
in your professional prospects,
parental plans,
promotion opportunities.

(In grey November, once,
Graham gave a sandwich.)

Does she, with her chapped hands,
be-ringed nostril, unkempt hair,
deposit her blanket outside
Sainsbury’s to milk
the gullible?
Reading a book at pavement level,
Has she a choice?

(In baking June, once,
Aisha gave an ice-cream,
stretched out her exposed hand,
bowed her shrouded head.
Caritas?)

Down with their faithful dogs,
they lie,
Dumb as the dead.
And to our questions,
…why don’t they…?
…how can they…?
…what sort of life is it…?
No answers come.

Can there be worse than this?
Illegal it might not be…

But bearable?

By Rosemary Mathew. The title of this poem, which was written for a Cambridge University Library publication, was specified because it’s a ‘Legal Deposit’ library.

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