Poem: Ghosts

People everywhere--

Under stairs, under where?

Under the side walks--

--And they stare...

They hang from trees,

They remain of knees,

They gather here,

Because once near!

Now, today...

A brothel at bay.

Still standing no less,

Still standing--I guess?

Why do they stand?

In California alone?

Why do they stand?

As one may own?

They still exist,

They still murder,

They still resist,

The U.S. Order!

--Alysia Heyer