No Trespassing

A prison of sorts. Lovely, outdoors. Seven-by-seven, by sofa on the sidewalk. Streets. Sheets. Hair all over. Looking up, then looking away. JC Decaux. Close and hide. A shopping cart. A backpack. A bedroll. A life. A human life. A prison of a very special kind. A cage without bars, without doors, without locks. A beautiful, ever most lovely ankle bracelet of a city.


Also by Mira Martin-Parker

$hare