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Flat City Interrogative
When I was younger
My lover died from hunger
For God had not flung her
His scraps from the sky
So I covered her over
Neath the cold clay and clover
I buried my lover
Where the hungry all lie
In Flat City, that city
Where I heard the people cry
It taught us and brought us
A reason to die
Then I drank myself numb
Of that Flat City slum
For the trucks had ceased to come
And the taps had run dry.
So I prayed for death to score me
But she chose to ignore me
And as though she never saw me
She simply passed me by.
In Flat City, that city,
Where I waited for reply
But its answers were just chances
To repeat the question, “Why?”
Copyright ©
Barry Freeman
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