doll face leathered brown
with rosy streaks of blush
so jarring
yet
as she holds her coffee
absent hand to smooth hair
pulled back
harsh
i hear her say to me –
fifteen years on the street
and in january
maybe
she smiles, sips,
feeling warm.
denise
Response
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author's note: I met “Denise” in a coffee shop in Baltimore. She has lived homeless for fifteen years and yet, at that moment, the only important thing was warmth and someone to talk to… which is, of course, where I came in…
Poetry by JC Snyder 
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