by Dee Allen.



For the homeless

On some street

In Saint Pete

Looks like


A cage

For people


An open-air

Holding cell

South of Heaven,

East side of Hell,

A jailhouse with a dusky

Ceiling full of stars,

Black wrought

Iron bars

Surrounds the transients’ reality.

Across the street

From a trailer,

S.W.A.T. monitors enclosed activity:

Crouching low,

Pacing around,



It was animals

That placed

Homeless ones in captivity

For no sins, away from palm trees & passers-by.

A step up from sidewalk



Public safety

For rich newcomers

On some street

In Saint Pete

Looks like


A cage

For people


Guantanamo Bay



Written: 3.15.19

[For Bruce & Barbara Wright.]


Dee Allen is an African-Italian performance poet based in Oakland, California, who has been active on the creative writing & Spoken Word tips since the early 1990s. Author of 4 books [ Boneyard, Unwritten Law, Stormwater and his newest, Skeletal Black, all from POOR Press ] and 18 anthology appearances [ including Poets 11: 2014, Feather Floating On The Water, Rise, Your Golden Sun Still Shines, What Is Love, The City Is Already Speaking, The Land Lives Forever and the newest from Los Angeles-based Vagabond Books, Extreme ] under his figurative belt so far.



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