One Eyed Beggar Lady

I came home and washed my hands
The next day I saw her again
White bandage gleaming
In the cruel light
Two men had her cornered
I gave her a look from the stop light
A universal offer
But my meesely change from the day before
Couldn't compete with her homeless sex code
I can still feel her rough hand
The one I dropped my change into
Scabbed over with sores
Like her eye
I have seen her change her bandage
And splash alcohol on it
Outside the liquor store
Down the street
After touching that hand
I washed my hands
I didn't want what she had
None of it, and that made me feel
Bad

Unravelling

I used to imagine my life was a string
of accomplishments I kept in a box.
The papers and photographs, knots,
leading my someday children to and fro
through my life in words and images.
Now I see I am a mess of ropes,
each one entangled in a hopeless ball
with the others, waiting for me
to come and tease them all apart
when i grow too old or weary to braid
more.