The Squatter Camp

some bright spots shine out 
of the squatter camp
coloured plastic houses
flap in the winter wind
bricks hold roofs in place
cardboard houses labeled
"For the Whitest Whites
 and Brightest Colours"
shine brightly through the haze
of winter fires
a bright blue painted window
glass missing, brightens up a wall
made of Chibuku containers

a fence of scrap car doors
rattles like a skeleton
in the darkest hours of night
when prowlers prey on unlocked
homes, for these are homes!
people are living here!
as squalid as they seem
there's living and dying
drinking, cooking and cleaning
going on here
just as in other homes
a door of sewn mealiemeal bags
guards the entrance to a man's castle
his home!
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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