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"Clear off” they said, "no space for beggars,
VIP movement is on, move on, move on”
So we moved on, and that wasn’t such a problem

for we’re the flotsam, the jetsam, the unwanted
c/o footpath; we’re the ones with the tangled
hair and the red-eyed looks outside Gucci stores

hoping for a tenner that’ll get us a tin of shoe-polish
that’ll keep the hunger away until you throw away
that stale wadapao. No problem, we’ll clear off.

This is one half of a tapestry poem with Shernaz Wadia, first published at

View the full tapestry here.

What is tapestry poetry?