The child who accidentally draws margins on
Both sides of a page bears witness to the truth
That there is more than one
Margin.
Like a coast-to-coast walk
Or a line across a circle
The same rubbish heaps,
The same smell of weed,
The same disintegrating plastic bags,
The same minimum wage,
The same way newcomers look and say,
“What is this shit-hole?”
From overcrowded housing
To caravans and trailers;
From those left out by others
To those kept out by themselves:
The same offers of tea
The same dreams,
The same raucous laughter,
The same looking out for each other,
The same just trying
To get by.
