A Quarter for my soul by Cristina-Monica Moldoveanu

I am not a silent poet

one day i begged at the corner of my street
but no one understood:
only a drop of sunshine please,
it costs half a dollar by tram
to get out from the shadow of civilized ghettos,
to renounce my cornflakes with yogurt,
only half a dollar for the 13th hour tram,
even if lonely women are conspicuous in city parks;
some people give tens of dollars to watch movies at the mall
and they are allowed to,
others give hundreds of dollars for iPhones
because they have who to talk to…
but only the heart, decent folks,
the heart mends with sunshine,
otherwise it becomes suspect
of a cancer not discovered yet,
or maybe the human himself grows leaves
in his entrails for always
in the shade of cold concrete
where only the sun costs half a dollar…

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