Workers' Liberty

MURDER ON A LONDON STREET
Guiseppi's grey head lies where flowing blood
Gives it a glass-black glistening halo, bright
Against the flagstone in the London night;
Thin, old, Guiseppi slumps, exuding blood;
Knee-raised pieta, with no Mary to brood
That startled eyes glitter without sight,
Broken, like a stone-shattered street side light,
Or weep that he lies dying on the road.
Two savage boys, mad with greed, eager
To be enterprising, callous to get on
Met him by chance in the dark, going home alone
And broke his skull; and blood's wage here is meagre!
How much? One hundred pounds his killers took;
I found him dying, bewildered in blood and puke.
1991