“Homeless Girl” by Michael Ugulini


She sits on the street absorbing heat,
a cap collecting coins,
tossed by some with hurried feet,
impatience in their loins.

Her face is dirty, hair in ruins,
she floats the streets at night,
like a nomad though the dunes,
or a string-less kite.

She looks around, then stares down,
counting what she's caught,
no longer classified as a noun,
she's just a passing thought.