Blessing

He teeters
on his last leg
a human bonfire
in the windless air
smouldering fitful in
a floppy brown hat
a faded blue trench coat
with his stained duffle
dropped beside
his single split gumboot
on the crushed grass
wilderness
of the centre median
beside the police station
the worn rubber tips
of his scarred crutches
lifted
firing defiance
straight up
at a hot cloudy sky.

Beneath his fierce watch
rush hour traffic
crawls and scuttles
a resolute random stream
of shiny disturbed ants.

He stands there for hours
poised
on the verge
of burning out or burning
mouthing sequential curses
his face a tight warrior's mask
his words lost
in the deep voice
of the heedless traffic.