THERE IS STILL A LOT LEFT Poem by Ester Naomi Perquin

You can leave birds that have been hit by a car, you can
push them aside flapping and all, easily forgotten

a bike that falls over in the rain, used needles in a sandpit,
strategically located banana peel, unposted letters
to the tax department oblige you to nothing

excess change in your hand, a small boy on a tram
who doesn't know where to get off, you can ignore coolly,
not recognising faces, not acknowledging a smile

it is completely legal to turn your back
on dumbstruck former classmates
anxious to talk to you in a busy shop

and your hand, you can turn that into a weapon,
stick it in your pocket. Sawn-off. Cocked.