alleys
that bend and wind
like rivers
spiraling off as tributaries that hide behind
the streets of the city
around the dilapidated apartment complex
where we live
like tunnels carved through the hidden spaces
of the bursting boiling festering city
whose traffic flows by raucously
and where people shout in angry bursts
the alleys branch out
our secret passages
that we take
to school
the store
to our friend’s house
the alleys
with old furniture falling apart
graffitied trash cans
left-behind tires
and broken glass
from parties sadly ended
reminders of lives left behind
where stray cats prowl
searching for food and shelter
mewling afraid in the darkness
under skies that pour
oceans of pain
in alleys we wander
d.w. moody grew up between California and the Midwest. He has lived on the streets, hitchhiked around the country, and held a variety of jobs in Kansas and Southern California until settling into life as a librarian. His poems have appeared in Shemom, The Avalon Literary Review, and Foliate Oak Literary Magazine.