Francie Lynch Poems
Comments about Francie Lynch
A Child Is Born
I don't know destitute.
I could use the bathrooms
If I eat there.
I'm no refugee.
Neither are you.
We have computers, not canvas.
I warmed up the coffee today
And the dishwasher needs to go through
For the third time this week.
Homeless: We have them.
Poor: We'll always have them.
Hungry: Look to the soup kitchens.
Sick: The gurneys are lined in the halls.
Death: It's all around, and increasing.
And still, in that tent or Uber taxi
A child is born to change all this.
Now, That Is Spring
I shooed a June bug
Off my front screen door,
And the freighters blow fog horns
On The Huron and St. Clair.
The mist rises like incense
From the blackness on Spartan Ave.;
Still a warm May drizzle drifts tonight,
Anointing lawns, gardens and us.
And Beulah, my new magnolia tree,