Micropoetry about poverty

she scratches a 40 year old scar on her wrinkled face, parks her walker, adjusts her violet wig, and pilfers a barbie pink lipstick.




peasants sink into a gravelly, charcoal street that pulls like quicksand.





in the tuberculosis clinic
undulating rainbows of mismatched princess toe-socks cleanse the contaminated air





sift for gold nuggets and rare, perforated swiss on a littered beach.