Graphic by Raphael Bouganim

They come

with un-weeded gardens, unpicked fruit,

with empty feed-bins, unpaid accounts,

with sewers clogged with yesterday’s print,

with jammed circuits, wiretapped phones,

with worn rule-books, overused erasers,

with broken wings, festering wounds,

with cataracts, detached retinas,

with pacifiers of gum, papered leaf,

with pin-cushioned arms, pale red palms,

with neck pains, back pains, no relief.

They come, they come.